


Dichotomy

by strayeffects



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Online Dating, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Anxiety, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bad at tagging as usual lmao, Bottom Han Jisung | Han, Break Up, Character Death, Chatting & Messaging, Dark Character, Doppelganger, Eventual Smut, Fucked Up Lee Know, Hacking, Introvert Han Jisung | Han, Light Angst, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Masturbation, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Plot Twists, Power Play Attempt, Psychological Horror (kind of), Psychological Torture, Psychopath Lee Minho | Lee Know, Sad Jisung, Safeword Use, Serial Killer Lee Minho | Lee Know, Smoking, Smut, Stalking, Suicide Attempt, Suspense, Top Lee Minho | Lee Know, Using Blood as Paint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 75,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26560327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strayeffects/pseuds/strayeffects
Summary: di·chot·o·my/dīˈkädəmē/nouna division or contrast between two things that are or are represented as being opposed or entirely different.It all started with a sudden, painful break up that led Jisung to step outside of his comfort zone and made a friend online. He just needed someone he could share his feelings for or anything, he wasn't expecting that everything would have ended up traumatic like this.Or simply,Jisung unexpectedly met the doppelganger of his ex-boyfriend Lino through online. Bloody incident happened.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han & Lee Minho | Lee Know, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 142
Kudos: 361





	1. all of my scars don't seem to matter anymore 'cause they led me here to you.

Right at the moment, Han Jisung didn't know what he was exactly doing at his boyfriend's company party. As if it he was friends with the guests. He knew a handful of them, the ones who he usually seen and now familiar with the faces, but he wasn't friends with them, either. Actually when he was at in school, he'd been the odd one out; the one that everyone knew, but no one liked. It wasn't because he'd make a bad impression to anyone. He'd actually been the quiet student who sat in the back and only spoke when needed to.

He'd often thought he wanted to get to know his peers. After all, he'd had plenty of friends back in Malaysia. Incheon though, not so much. At first he'd wondered why. Was it his appearance? The way he dressed? The way he behaves, which no one could quite figure out how to decipher? For some reason, everybody avoided him. He'd known they weren't doing it to upset him, though. When forced to talk, everyone was rather nice to him. So why did they ignore him, even now?

There was one person who, after two years of pretending he didn't exist, finally had to negotiate with him for his survey on his case study. His name was Lino, a senior who's almost two years older than him; he could say that he was a popular guy in the campus, from the way the girls snapped their heads every time he's passes by. He didn't care much for things like that though, since he just came to ask for an interview, just like what some his schoolmates do. They just all come and go when they all get what they needed. So when he did talked to him, he spoke to him the same way he spoke to anyone else. He tried to answer all of his questions in a cheerful, friendly way, just like he always did every time people approaches him. Surprisingly, Lino must've appreciated that, as, to his surprise, Lino started coming by him, leaving cupcakes and pastries inside his locker with daily encouraging notes. Jisung had both liked and hated this. As much as he wanted to make friends, he liked his solidarity. But who was he to push away the prettiest guy in Incheon? Whenever he brushed his orange dyed hair upwards or his shining eyes met his, he felt something stir in his chest.

One day, when they spent their free time at the university's rooftop, Lino gave him the answer to his long-lurking question of why he was so avoided by everyone. "Hmm..." he wonders, "You know, I always thought you'd be an asshole. No offense. You always look so serious, so I was afraid to approach you, at first."

_Well_ , he'd thought, _that explains it._

By then, though, it would take too long for him to change. Too _awkward_. He was a serious guy. Why should he hide it? Why should he _change_ it? 

Lino didn't mind though. In fact, he told him: "I think you're cute when you're serious."

Basically, that's when their love story has just began. After many series of flirting and getting to know each other shits, they started dating on Valentine's Day of 2017. Now it was Valentine's Day eve, 2020, about five minutes from the 'D-Day'. They'd been together for almost three years and yet they'd never even _kissed_.

In the time that Jisung graduated, they both moved into their own places; Lino to a small house and Jisung to an apartment. Lino, because his parents were over-protective (since he was the only child), he wanted to prove he could thrive on his own. Jisung, because his father was an alcoholic gambler who stole the money he'd earned from his small business. Lino had finally adjusted on his job. Jisung, on the other hand, grew more reclusive, preferring to work on commissions rather than go outside. They still went on the occasional date, though. 

All of this happened and Jisung still hadn't had his first kiss yet. He supposed that's the reason of why Lino invited him to the party. He knew the presence of his co-workers meant nothing to Jisung. He'd much rather have stayed at home and worked. Yet, he'd invited him regardless, so he figured it was to hold him down and kiss him when the time he's been waiting for had come. 

The thought alone made him nervous. It wasn't that he didn't like him. He was his boyfriend for Pete's sake. Sometimes he even teases Lino by pouting his lips in front of him, and Lino just smiles and looks away. It's just it was his own damned fault for not working up the nerve to kiss him on his own. Would he make Lino be the one to lean in? He did have a tendency to be _controlling_. The argument they'd had back in August, after Jisung refused to take out a loan to go to move in with him, flashed into his mind. Was it because of that that he'd never gone? Was it to guilt him? Most likely. If being controlling didn't get Lino what he wanted, then getting seething was his backup plan.

Despite these small character flaws, Jisung still loved him. He couldn't explain why he'd never felt any sexual or romantic urges for Lino. His only thought was that he was asexual. But that couldn't be right. When he imagined making love to Lino, it was beautiful and easy. But then when they were alone in a room together and he was cuddling onto him, and... nothing. At least Lino's controlling nature had never carried over into his desires for Jisung. He'd never pressured him for sex; rather, he made subtle suggestions and sighed when he dismissed them.

_That has to change_ , he thought to himself as he stared down into the red solo cup in his hand. He had to show Lino that he care, because he _do_. Or else he'll leave him, he knows he will. Lino will think he don't love him. He never show him that he do, so that has to change.

He hadn't seen much of him since they got to the party. There were a lot more people than he'd expected. He stood on his own, tucked away in the corner. Like a wallflower he watched his peers interacting. At some point he'd strained with a drink in his hand, but he'd hardly drank it. But now that he was determined about pleasing Lino, however, he brought the cup to his lips and forced himself to drink. He tilted his head back and gulped. Tastes horrible, though. He suddenly wondered how _his_ lips would even tastes like. Of course, it would be tasted so sweet, completely opposite to what he had drank just at the moment.

Three minutes remaining before their anniversary. No one else paid any attention, but Jisung grew tense. As if on a cue, he saw Lino's head through the crowd as he approached, his eyes bleary as he walked. Lino's eyes scanned the crowd as he held his arms close to himself. He looks as nervous as Jisung was.

When he reached him, Lino looked at him for a beat, but then turned his eyes to the floor without a word.

"Hey," Jisung said.

"Hey," he replied through an exhale.

"Where have you been?" He chuckled and gave Lino a gentle nudge. "Shame on you, leaving me all alone."

He made an amused groan, but his smile didn't last long. Jisung seemed to notice the behavior. 

"What's wrong?"

"Uhh, nothing. Don't mind it."

Thirty seconds of silence. Two minutes remaining. Jisung fidgeted in place. Lino's sour mood wasn't helping him get over his nerves.

_Does he want him to kiss him? Should he ask?_ He gave himself a mental kick. _Of course not, fucker! Don't kill the romance!_

"What do you think of the party?" he asked.

"It's all right, I guess. How about you?"

"Well, I can't complain. Seems to be fun!"  


  
Jisung stated those cheerfully and playfully, more like his voice was mimicking Doraemon's. And that got a bit more of a laugh from Lino, but still he couldn't hold his gaze for long. "Ah, could still imitate Doraemon, I see."

"Of course, I could still do that no matter how time passes by. Better make it alive than drop it, right?"

"I suppose. I do find it cute."

Alright. He'll give him a kiss at midnight. Gonna give him a real passionate kiss. He stopped and hesitated. Okay, well, maybe not a passionate one. He'll kiss him, though. Might as well. What do he have to lose?

"You aren't uncomfortable, are you?"

Jisung gave Lino his attention. "What?"

"You aren't uncomfortable? I know you don't like people that much."

He scoffed and shrugged, playing it cool. "Me? Nah. I'm a bit of an asshole, sure, but I've been fine so far."

"Ah." If Lino didn't take note of what he had said since he was busy looking at other people around them, he did a good job hiding it. Though, hiding the discomfort in his voice didn't come so easy. "You haven't even taken off your coat, though."

"It's pretty cold in here." It was a lie. Jisung was feeling kind of suffocating, and he didn't feel comfortable leaving his coat unattended.

"I suppose."

"One minute left, guys!" shouted someone in the mob.

Holy fucking shit. Almost time. Is he even ready for this? The countdown made him more nervous than he was expected. Why was there a countdown though?

The music kept playing, but everyone quieted somewhat, anticipating rapid approach of the Valentine's. As they did wait for it, Jisung stared at Lino as he continued gazing at the floor. He looks like he was drunk, but that doesn't matter. He could assist him when he decided to go home, just like he usually do after completing his work hours.

_All right. Get over yourself, man. It's only a kiss. He's your boyfriend. Don't be foolish about it._

"Listen, Hannie. We need to talk," mumbled Lino as he crossed his arms.

"About what?" Jisung took a sip of his drink.

"I want to break up."

It took a few seconds for the heaviness of those words to weigh on Jisung. He looked at him in surprise once they did, his eyes wide. Lino looked back at him with his wide and sad eyes. "What?"

"Look Hannie, I'm sorry, I am, but... I can't keep doing this anymore. I want things that you can't give me, and I just... can't anymore."

"Lino, what... What are you saying?"

"I love you, Jisung, but let's face it. We weren't meant to be together. We should go back to being friends." In defeat, Lino facepalmed himself, his eyes were shaking. "I'm sorry." Then, he hurried away, disappearing into the crowd.

"Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy Valentine's Day!" The party exploded into cheer, with a loud [music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D1raf7jCJSU) booming around them, oblivious to Jisung's shockness.

Did _that_ happen? He wondered, dismayed. Did he just break up with him? Right at _their anniversary?_

He was slow in scanning his eyes over the mob, or was it the world around him that'd slowed? People were holding each other, kissing, cheering... and here he was, on his own. _Dumped_.

Did he actually just breaks up with him during the countdown? He didn't even let him prove _himself_.

There was a pain in his chest that he hadn't expected. He'd always felt that if he broke up with him, he wouldn't react too much. But now, it upset him, it.... it _hurts_ him. He wanted to get angry. What would that prove, though? He deserved this. It was his own fault for not showing Lino the love he wanted sooner.

Whatever. It's fine. He's better off _alone_ , anyway. This whole "love" thing wasn't his thing. 

A bitter stake burrowed its way into his heart. His apartment was a far way away; Lino had driven him here. He'd disappeared, though, somewhere in the crowd. Was it to hide away from him in shame, or to run to someone else?

Chuckling, he thought that he was glad that he'd kept his coat on, he set his cup down on a table and headed out.

Man, he's really indeed an _asshole,_ leaving the party early. Guess he has a reason to, though. He don't belong _there_.

It was colder outside now than it'd been when they got there. All he could hope was that he wouldn't get robbed or something on the long walk home.

He tried to convince himself that he wasn't angry. After all, he didn't feel like he had a reason to be. Lino had given him his just sweet pastries, as sweet as his flirtings on him before. To make it equal, Jisung had made his bed, now he had to lay in it. Would he ever still find love; someone he could _show_ his feelings for?

For an instant, he doubt it. He have trouble loving his own parents. How could he love someone else? He's too anti-social for love. He didn't even believe Lino whenever he showed affection toward him. Guess he was right to doubt him, though, huh?

What was it that made him dump Jisung now? Was it because he never kissed him? Because they never had sex? Or is he with someone else who pressured Lino into dropping him? He'd be willing to bet on the last one. He could notice how he has been more absorbed on his phone than normal as of late.

He pulled up the fur-lined hood of his black parka once he was halfway home. As much as he wanted to check the time on his phone, he was coming up to a bad area now and didn't want to show off any of his possessions. However long it'd been, it felt like it'd been an hour since he left the party. It'd take at least another half hour for him to reach his apartment.

In the meantime, it was difficult for him to describe what he felt. Betrayal? Anger? Sadness? He wasn't sure. When he stopped on the middle of the street, it was because he realized he was walking past a cemetery. Somehow, it seemed fitting, though he didn't recognize it. It felt cold, it felt like the souls of the dead kept coming on him, seems like cold as their _relationship_. 

The cold winter air blew hard against his face, like he was being slapped to reality, as he walk slowly with heavy steps down the street. It'd never been this cold back in Incheon. Suddenly, he felt homesick for the great Muddy Confluence. As much as he wishes for snow when he was ten years old, the cold today wasn't worth it this time. It was too _bitter_. In Malaysia, it does not have winter season, but April to October had been cold, rainy months. Hell, most months were warm when compared to this. Remembering about the party; he suddenly realized how much he didn't belong here in Incheon.

It's too late to go back now though. There's nothing there for him anymore...

Forty minutes later and he was at last entering his apartment building. In the stairwell, he felt his phone vibrated in his side pocket and wondered if it was Lino. He didn't check, though. Instead, he took his time walking with heavy tread up the stairs. Up he went, all the way to the fourth floor. Stopping in front of the door to apartment 149, he pulled out his keys from the front left pocket of his dark jeans.

His apartment was dark, all the lights off and curtains over the windows in the living room. Not even a ray of moonlight could find its way in, really _isolating_. So when Jisung opened the door, it was like looking into a deep space, more like deep _emptiness_. As his phone vibrated a few more times, he stepped in and closed the door behind himself. He'd lived here for about two years so had no difficulty finding the light switch on the wall blind.

With a sigh he dropped his keys down onto the kitchen countertop. Then he headed further into the apartment, to the living room. He unzipped his furry coat and slipped it off, dropping it down onto the couch. His head hung as he slump onto his bedroom. From his front right pocket he pulled his phone out before sitting on his bed. He turned it on.

Of course, all the notifications that made it rumble were texts from his _ex_ -boyfriend. Rather than look at the latest on his wall, he opened one and read them all in order.

_"Did you get home safe?"_

_"I'm so sorry, Jisung. I didn't mean to hurt you."_

_"I hope you can understand. I only broke up with you because I felt like we were awkward as lovers. You never seemed comfortable ever since we started as a couple."_

_"I thought we'd be better as friends. Can we still be that?"_

Jisung stared at the message and thought: _Friends? With you? You must be off your face!_ "No." he typed, but hesitated before pressing send.

Now, hold on a minute, he stopped. He should not be so _harsh_ to him. He does have a point. He never was comfortable with romance. Should he accept this? He think he'll be bitter about this for a long time, but...

He deleted the two letters he'd typed in when Lino started to send another text. _"Please?"_ it read when he sent it.

Jisung sighed. He said he was sorry. He should count the blessings. Lino has been his only friend, and he's giving him a chance not to lose him for good. So he better take it or else he'll gonna regret it. By that, he responded with a "Yeah".

There was a pause before Lino replied, "Really?"

"Yeah, let's stay friends."

_"You were always considerate. Thanks."_ He ended this text with a smiling emoji.

Biting his lower lip in a mix feeling of uncertainty and anxiety, Jisung simply responded, "No worries."

* * *

After a year of moving on, work was all of Jisung's life.

Day in and day out, it was always the same routine.

He was a freelancer but it was no different from when he was in school, or when he was fresh out of school, starting off with a minimum wage job to pay for living alone in the big city. He woke up, prepared for the upcoming request of services, focused on his work, eat, worked, rest, washed up, and slept. The next day, the cycle repeated.

The work varied, but the routine did not. He knew it made him different. He knew some people, especially those who also stay with the same building with him, even wondered how someone so repressed and shy somehow managed to earn money on his own despite of the lack of industry experiences. 

He could tell them that he keeps his head down, doing the tasks he was put to, and not complaining... but he feared it would make him sound like a prat. So he said nothing.

He just wasn't like the rest. He was steady and reliable. It was how he was used to.

But it made him lonely.

It made him a stranger among the other.

He socialized only when he had to. Otherwise, he kept to himself.

His only friend-slash-his ex boyfriend Lino, —the successful businessman— had been promoted in the higher position on his advertising firm. One of the things he tended to say was that Jisung's own shyness was strangling him.

"Ya! You need to go easy on yourself, Hannie," Lino advised him, a few times a month. "Go out to drinks if someone invited you! Smile at the next pretty thing to cross your path! It's not a sin to loosen up some!"

But the thing is there is no _someone_ who would've invite him, simply because he has no other friends, just only one, and that is no other than his ex-boyfriend.

And "loosening up" was a skill Jisung had to admit he was not born with, and had not had time to cultivate. He was different. His difference made him efficient. It made him outstanding on his work alone. Worst of all, it made him come back to an empty loft at the end of the day – no one with whom he could speak of his fears and achievements, and no one to let him know there was an end in sight.

The sound of Lino himself buzzing in his ear snapped Jisung from his thoughts. Only then did he remember how he was in a video call with him, since he'd pestered him into it.

"Lino hyung," he replied with no enthusiasm, resisting the urge to drop the call. He's playing Getting Over It on his laptop and he was about to go to the very top when the sound of calling had rang his ears, making him fall from the very bottom again. He wants to scream to him. Instead, to give his hand something else to do, he tried to tuck a loose strand of his fluffy hair. It only fell back down a few seconds later, though.

With relief clear in his voice, Lino exclaimed, "Ah, good. You can still hear me." Then, he went on to explain, "My cats stepped on my microphone jack. You know how fussy they are."

As Jisung digested this information, he overheard the guy on his screen scolding his cats, but in a sweet way. In that moment, he found himself wishing they were talking over the phone. That way, he could hang up on him and blame it on low battery. Unfortunately, Lino's phone had no minutes, so he'd insisted on doing a video call over Messenger, specifically on his laptop.

Out of the blue, Jisung heard Lino talk, "Anyway, I just call so I could ask what have you been up to."

It took a few seconds for him to process his statement. "Well, you know," he began in his typical lazy, deep exhausting voice. "The usual."

"Drawing in the dark? Playing random games?" Well he almost forgot that he was drawing something on his Autodesk app, but on the other hand, had take note of the knowing sarcasm in Lino's voice. It was so noticeable that Jisung could _almost_ feel it, as if he'd throwing a ball to him with too much force. 

Eager to shun on what Lino had thrown to him, he coolly countered, "That sounds about right."

Lino lets out a huff then, "Ahh Han Jisung, come on. Life is passing you by. You should do more with it you know."

"Like what?" As he replied, Jisung leaned closer to his laptop. With the touch pad, he moved the cursor over the event of his drawing in his Autodesk. He clicked it, then semi-minimized all of the apps being opened on his laptop so he could look at them all, including the worried face of his ex-boyfriend.

"I don't know, like... going outside? Interacting with people in real life? Or, no, you know what? I'd even accept you making a new friend _online_."

The younger guy rolled his eyes. "No thanks," he stated bluntly. "I'm socially and mentally healthy right now. I'd like to keep it that way."

Lino scoffed, Jisung almost laughed at the view. "Mentally healthy? Socially healthy? How many times have you talked to yourself in the past twenty-four hours? I mean, like, really had a conversation with yourself, out loud?" Before Jisung could give his answer, he concluded, "If the answer is anything higher than zero, then I'd argue that you're far from 'healthy', whether it is mentally or socially, Sungie."

"Yeah, well, just because I'm my own best friend doesn't mean I'm mentally unhinged, hyung."

"You spent all day ranting to me about how much you hate yourself."

Jisung took a moment to consider that, until he let out a playful grin. "Oh well. You actually got me there."

Through his earphones came the faintest sound of Lino chuckling, which mocked him. "How about this? I dare you to visit onto Tinder, or maybe Omegle right now."

"I'm a little busy." As he hissed this, he selected a new color and clicked the hair so the character he drew could look like Lino's. He smiled a little at the satisfaction when he could see the similarities on to them.

"And _stay_ on them, until you make a friend."

To this, Jisung couldn't help but to laugh in a loud and boisterous way. "Ha! Until I sooner got have gray hairs?"

"You'll only have them if you didn't change with the way you live," he answered back, "I don't doubt it."

They shared a laugh, but for Jisung it felt bittersweet. It brought to mind old memories, of when the two of them were dating. When he'd served as a social outlet for him—forced him to leave his apartment. Now, without him, he realized he'd turned into a complete anti-social.

_Why did he break up with him?_ Was what found its way into his mind. It was a familiar question, one he often think of but never found an answer for. _Was it because he wasn't expressive enough?_ The truth was, in Jisung's eyes, Lino was the perfect puzzle that is difficult to understand.

He had this temptation to ask him now, to ask _everything_ he really like to know but Jisung froze up before he could. He knew asking stupid questions like that could ruin their friendship—the only one he still had. As far as he cared, the distress of uncertainty was better than complete solitude.

Lino yawned. "Hannie, I suddenly feel sleepy," he exclaimed through the end, words near-incomprehensible. But the way he say that nickname of his was clear to hear, the way he interpreted it before as 'honey', but now that they were no more a 'thing', he could understand it now as his own nickname.

"Get some rest, hyung," Jisung encouraged. He clicked the minimize button of his Autodesk app, and opened another tab of the said app, doing separate drawing for the background. 

"You too, hmm? Don't stay up too late."

"Sure." Though Jisung said this, he already knew he wouldn't take note of it.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Mm."

"Bye!"

"Bye."

The sight of the call ending brought Jisung both enjoyment and discouragement. Enjoyment, because now he could work without interruption. Discouragement, because he didn't feel like working anymore tonight.

Jisung slumped deeper in his chair and let out a deep sigh. He'd never felt like he belonged in Incheon, but breaking up with Lino had only made that clearer. If he could, he knew he'd go back to Malaysia. Unfortunately, he sometimes struggled to even pay rent for his crappy apartment, so returning was a pipe dream. To make matters worse, his parents were here.

Why did they ever leave Malaysia? Why, of all places, did they have to move to Korea? It's too cold here for him, even after nine years. Even the people are cold. How do his parents stand it?

Gazing up at the dark white ceiling above him, Jisung pondered the question.

They must be more social than he is, he concluded. Or at least his mom must be; his dad drinks too much to make friends.

Jisung closed his eyes. He must've dozed off, because next thing he knew, it was midnight.

With a low groan, Jisung forced himself upright, pulling his legs in to sit cross-legged. While he was rubbing his eyes, he debated with himself about whether to go to bed or stay up for a little while. All of a sudden, like a fast truck with no brakes, Lino's dare slammed into the forefront of his mind.

For nine of his twenty-one years alive, Jisung had been far from social. Yet, somehow, fatigue always seemed to make him feel a bit open—like a carefree eleven-year-old all over again.

_Nothing better to do. So why not take Lino hyung up on his challenge?_

Deciding to try the Omegle one, he typed Omegle's URL into his browser's address bar, and some part of him argued he was doing this out of spite. That some part of him was only accepting the dare to prove that he wasn't boring like Lino must had think of. He was thinking of sending the screenshots while he's asleep, but feeling like he was such a prat on planning of doing it, he decided not to do it.

Of course, to no surprise, he immediately regretted going on Omegle. The majority of strangers were either bots or horny people starting every conversation with _"ASL?"_ He couldn't help but assume it had something to do with how late it was.

Thirty minutes must've passed before his patience finally reached its limit. But right as he was about to close the browser, he noticed one last stranger.

**Stranger:** _hello._

Jisung sighed. Did he have time to spare for one more conversation? Would it be worth it?

Well probably not, but he may as well try.

He replied, though with reluctance.

**You:** hi.

**Stranger:** Are you a bot?

This question made Jisung raise a brow.

**You:** Haha, not since I last checked.

**Stranger:** Oh, good.

After a pause, they then wrote,

**Stranger:** So... ASL? ;) 

For a long beat, Jisung only stared at his screen, kind of delighted by a dull sense of awe.

_Well, fuckingshit,_ he thought. _So much for that._

Yet, despite the way his hand moved for the Esc key, he couldn't bring himself to leave the conversation himself. Part of him decided it would be better to express his disapproval with silence and watch the stranger leave out of shame.

Who is he kidding though? No one on that website has any shame.

So it didn't surprise him too much when the stranger resumed typing instead. What did surprise him, though, was _what_ they typed.

**Stranger:** Just kidding. Sorry, I thought that might be a great icebreaker. I'm not the best at talking to strangers.

As refreshing as the confession was, to Jisung it somehow came across as strange. Even so, he responded,

**You:** Neither am I, to be honest.

Then, in a sudden burst of hopefulness, he added,

**You:** I'm on here in the hopes of making a friend, but I haven't found anyone who isn't looking to root me.

**Stranger:** Same here.

**Stranger:** You're the only person I've met in the past two hours who's actually spoken to me like a human being.

Jisung's eyes widened. That was hella kind of far out! Two hours? This person must have the patience of a God.

With a smiling emote tacked on, the stranger exclaimed,

**Stranger:** Let's be friends! :) I know the point of this site is anonymity, but my name's Minho. What's yours?

Jisung considered his options before deciding there'd be no harm in giving his name, it being common and all.

**You:** Jisung.

**Stranger:** Nice to meet you, Jisung. What do you like to do?

**You:** I make artwork. I'm a digital artist, specifically a freelancer one. And I produce music and play games when I feel bored.

**Stranger:** Cool! I could say that I'm a dancer but not professional. I'm not a professional artist as well but I paint, you know, traditionally. I paint but everyone finds my artworks creepy.

What the hell, he has so many talents, and that wasn't a real joke! 

And wait, did he just said he paints? And everyone finds his artworks _creepy?_

Jisung could say that he's lowkey curious, wanting to know the reason behind that story, but instead, changes the topic.

**You:** That's pretty nice. Well I don't think any problem with that at all though. I'm actually interested in doing a creepy, digital art right now.

It wasn't until he sent this that Jisung realized it forced the conversation into an awkward dead-end. He knew he had a bad habit of steering conversations to focus on himself, because _'himself'_ was what he knew best. Even so, he could never stop doing it.

Somehow, though, Minho managed to get along with it.

**Stranger:** Really? What is it about?

The questions caught Jisung off-guard, yet he answered,

**You:** It is about a boy named Lino. I haven't quite figured out the story of my artwork yet, not yet finish. Just drawing randomly when I felt bored. 

A straightforward answer, but true nonetheless; besides he hadn't think of the story behind the drawing, he didn't have much to work with. Try as he may, painting on a canvas was far from his ideal position, even though it's related to art.

**Stranger:** You'll figure it out sooner or later. Don't rush it. It will come to you naturally. ;)

Jisung digested Minho's reply, reading it over again and again. Every time he did, he felt himself smile a little more.

Their conversation dragged on and on. With every message they exchanged, the latter found himself growing increasingly comfortable. He discovered through the course of their chat that he and Minho had a lot in common. For example, they were both introverts. Or, rather, Minho was a _former_ introvert; somehow, he claimed to have overcome it as time passes by. Over time and the course of several interactions outside his comfort zone, he'd managed to convert himself to extroversion.

**You:** Isn't that exhausting? Interacting with strangers?

**You:** I mean for me even talking to a friend over the phone is exhausting. And God forbid I have to call someone myself.

**Stranger:** To be honest, I've never been happier when I have someone to talk. It's better to take risks than to be lonesome you know.

Jisung allowed Minho's words to sink in. There was a slim chance he'd ever act on the advice, especially considering how worn out he felt. After a quick glance at the clock on his task bar, he did a double take.

Holy shit, it's almost three in the morning already? Have he been talking with Minho for that long?

He thought for a moment before deciding he needed to sleep before he embarrassed himself. The last thing he wanted was to say something stupid without thinking.

**You:** Look, I'm worn out, man. I need to get some sleep, but I'd like to talk to you again.

Minho replied, 

**Stranger:** I would, too. This is the best conversation I've had in a while.

**You:** I could add you on Facebook. Or follow you in twitter and IG. 

_typing..._

**Stranger:** I don't have a Facebook profile, same with twitter and IG. I'm not too comfortable using those sites. Could we connect through text?

To Jisung, it seemed an odd jump, going from online networking to asking for his cellphone number. Part of him argued Gmail would be a more rational jump.

Then again, who the hell uses Gmail anymore? If he proposed that, he'd think he's a weirdo or something. Everyone talks through text and messengers nowadays... If it's the only way to talk to him again after this, then why not? What's the worst that could happen?

**You:** Sure, all right.

**Stranger:** Great! Here's my number. Send me a text before you disconnect from here!

After this, Minho sent a phone number.

Jisung reached into one of the pockets of his dark black cargo shorts and pulled out his cellphone. With tired eyes, he tapped the number into the contact box and pressed the text bubble.

"Hello? It's Jisung." he wrote. But as soon as he was about to move his thumb to the send button, he froze.

He's about to make a _mistake._

Something deep in the back of his mind stopped him in his tracks. But despite his better judgment, he then shook his head at his own thoughts.

_No, it's time he get over this silly social paranoia. Minho seems nice. Sure, he haven't known him very long, but he's a good guy. He can feel it. If he'll gonna open up to anyone, it might as well be him._

After he sent the text, he watched as Minho disconnected from Omegle. A few seconds later, the stranger began writing a text back. Jisung thought he knew what to expect from it, until it appeared in a new bubble.

"Got ya! :)" it read in English.

For a long moment, Jisung squinted and only stared at the text, unsure how to feel about it.

_Okay,_ he eventually thought, that's a bit... _strange._

Yet, even so, he decided not to read too much into it. It's only a casual reply. No reason to freak out over it. He must've meant it like "Understood" or something, right? That's gotta be it.

Clinging to the slight comfort rationality brought, the sleepy guy took a deep breath and turned off his laptop. After a minute or two spent getting ready for bed, his phone vibrated, so he looked at it.

Minho new text read, "Are you going to sleep?"

"Yeah," Jisung replied, "You?"

"Yeah." There came and went a pause before Minho's next message: "Look Jisung, look at us. We've only just met, but we talked until we fell asleep. This could be the start of something beautiful, can you feel it?"

Jisung smiled, though he wasn't sure what emotion caused it.

_Sure_ , he thought, inner voice dripping with playful mocking. Though, he chose not to reply to Minho this time.

He placed his phone on the table near his bed and laid it without locking it off. Then, he slid under the blanket. A few minutes passed, during which he tried to sleep, but his mind wouldn't stop racing. His conversation with Minho kept running through his head. Sleep felt impossible.

Was it right to trust him so fast? Jisung usually more cautious than that... Oh, whatever. He's sure he'll treat him with kindness. Can't have good things without taking risks, can you? Who knows, maybe Minho's right: this could be the start of something _beautiful_.

Thinking too much on the idea, Jisung blinks and stares at the ceiling. As it finally started to sink in, he rolled his eyes.

_Ha. Too right. Shut up, you hopeless twit._

Sick of thinking, Jisung grabbed the blanket and pulled it up over his head. With any luck, the warm embrace of darkness would lull him to sleep. But despite his efforts, he spent the rest of his time awake thinking of Minho.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be updated maybe next week. Thanks for reading!


	2. you were saying something about letting go?

Jisung woke up to his daily alarm. It was pointless really, he forgot to turn the alarm off last night and didn't remember that tomorrow would be Sunday, the day wherein he had to rest and the same time had to go out of his apartment to buy food and stuffs for himself.

Feeling lazy, Jisung flopped onto his back and looked up the ceiling with his forearm resting against his forehead. He couldn't remember what he'd dreamed about, but he knew he dream of something. This wasn't unusual in general, but it was as of late. It was last week when he'd been having evocative dreams that he recalled well after awakening. Though, he didn't miss jolting awake to take note in a pitiful attempt to remember what he'd dreamt of.

His phone vibrated, but he was still feeling lazy to react. Instead, he curled into a fetal position and buried himself with a pillow in his blanket. He wanted to fall back to sleep. Unfortunately, the ceaseless drone of the birds chirping outside gave him a different mood. Frustrated, he threw his pillow away and smacked the blanket off of himself with a groan. His room was still dark, as usual. The only indications that it was morning were the birds and the rays of sunlight that slipped around the curtains. At least he wasn't tired—no, he felt well-rested. He only wanted to stay asleep because he knew he didn't have anything else to do. 

Along with the sound of birds chirping, his phone vibrated yet again. Jisung sighed and closed his eyes.

He bet it's Lino though, wanting to yarn about something he didn't care about. Can't he let a guy sleep in _peace?_

_Wait wait wait._ Jisung thought, opening his eyes in an instant.

What if it was that stranger guy from last night— _Minho_ , was it?

Remembering Minho had brought him sudden interest in his phone. He rolled over onto his side and quickly reached the table near his bed. It took a few pats of the cold, hard surface for him to finally find it. When he did, he removed it from its charger and looked at its notification wall.

Sure enough, he had an overwhelming amount of texts from his ex-boyfriend. The latest began with the words _"I had found job offerings",_ and Jisung found himself groaning at them like an aggressive dog. Somehow, he'd got it into his head that digital art commissions weren't a "real job". That, he assumed, was one of the reason why Lino left him. Even so, he'd still send him information about job offers he heard and researched about.

Given, in his defense, most of them at least had something to do with art. But what he couldn't seem to catch was that Jisung wasn't _traditional_ artist like his new friend was. He wasn't even sure where to start when it came to painting on anything other than a digital canvas. So why he made a point of sending him job offers for traditional artists when all of them weren't related to his skill? As far as he was concerned, he was making enough money with commissions and donations from his customers and the like. His mother wired him a certain amount of money every month to help him made a small business and pay his rent. He was old enough and he could rely on his own and didn't need a "real job". He was doing fine as it was.

Underneath Lino's messages, Jisung took delight in finding a few texts from Minho, almost forgotten what he was thinking earlier. The latest of his message was _"Let me know when you wake up!"._

Instead of replying immediately, Jisung decided to perform his morning ritual first. Leaving the phone beside his laptop, he sat up on bed and dangled his feet over the side. He took a deep breath, then stood up and stretched. After grabbing his zip-up hoodie off of his chair and slipping it on over his plain black t-shirt, he put his phone beside his laptop. Finally, he left his bedroom.

Jisung's apartment was small, but that was how he liked it. Stepping out of the bedroom led him straight into the living room. To the left of his bedroom was the door to the bathroom and, separated from the living room by a thin island, the kitchen. The door out of his apartment was a few inches to the left of the fridge. The floor in his apartment was cheap white tile, but the walls were a pale linen color that he somehow admired.

While doing random stretches and exercises, he made his way into the bathroom and flicked the light on. In his reflection, he stared at himself with a morning look on his face and noticed the bags under his eyes. They'd never go away, would they? Once he'd messed up his sleep schedule once, they were there to stay. He picked up his toothbrush and turned on the sink. As he rinsed the bristles, he used his other hand to get the toothpaste from the medicine cabinet. Then, he took a minute or two to scrub his teeth.

After rinsing his mouth, he stared at his reflection once again at the mirror. He took a notice of some strands of his hair in front of his eyebrows. He felt like his hair was starting to get long, and the idea of that had brought him to an uncomfortable feeling.

Suddenly, his thoughts brought him to a nonsense idea. _I wanna cut my hair._

He took a glance of a scissor inside a container, and then, in an instant, he'd reached for it and gave a final glance with his current look at the mirror.

He decided to cut his hair despite of the coldness of the weather. Even though he felt himself conservative at everything, he wanted to trim his hair since he wasn't feeling comfortable having long hair. And the thickness of his hair was one of the factors why he was easily get irritated. So wanting to make himself feel comfortable, he wanted to cut his growing hair. It happened though, but as fucked up as his mind was, his haircut was uneven. He scratched his head aggressively, his face scowling. It seemed like he had no choice but to go to the salon later.

He took a bath and everything until he finished doing them all in the bathroom.

After doing his ritual at the bathroom, he marched out of the room and dried his hair with a towel. As he put his now wet towel over his shoulder, he went to the fridge and opened it to look inside. There was a carton of milk at the lower part which he assumed has a little amount of liquid remaining. He poked his head into the freezer. It was unfruitful, apart from the bag of frozen ice cubes sitting inside that had been there since Jisung moved in, but wasn't his. The young man sighed and took the carton of milk. It seemed he'd really have to go to the store, as he supposed to do so. Wanting to eat for the sake of it, Jisung opened the cupboard and pulled out a box of cereal, those with colorful ones. He mixed them all in his favorite bowl, and one at a time, he started to shovel them into his mouth. Bringing them along, he paced back into his dark bedroom.

For a long moment, he stared at the curtains with his half lidded eyes while he ate. He moved them into the top of the windowsills so he could take them down easier if he so pleased. He never had, though. Yet, without anything, he thought, _it's too bloody dark in here._ Motivated by this sudden change of mood, he carefully took the bowl of cereal and set it down on the seat of his rolling gaming chair. Then he approached the curtains. To take them down he had to stand on his bed, so he did. With no further hesitation, he ripped them away.

He regretted it immediately. The light from outside was blinding. He flinched at it and let out a noise of discomfort and betrayal. All that was missing was the hissing of burning flesh upon the light's touch. So, feeling disappointed, he decided to cover back one of the two windows. The other could stay uncovered, at least until he grew to hate sunlight again. Trying to force his eyes to adjust, Jisung squinted and peered through the window for the first time in months.

_Ah, shit. The snow had already stopped. Guess that explains why it's so bright._

His apartment was on the fourth floor of a cheap building in a rundown part of Incheon. As such, the view from his window has nothing to take note about. Pressing the side of his face against the cold glass, he tried to look as far down as he could. He wasn't able to see the ground, so he knew that it was one hell of a drop. If he opened the window and slid out, would the fall kill him immediately? Nah, he had possibly no chance of that; with his luck, he'd only cripple himself or something.

Grinning, he shook his head and took his bowl of cereal back, trying to clear his mind of the thought. He wasn't suicidal, only had a wide and morbid imagination. In fact, he wouldn't even call himself depressed. Though, he likely was, very much so. Life bored him and, as much as he wanted to deny it, desolation was all he knew anymore. He wanted to talk to people, but at the same time, didn't. Jisung's own contradictory with his wants and needs frustrated him to no end. So, instead of taking a side on the matter, he decided to ignore it altogether. He talked when he felt liked he could without coming across as awkward. Otherwise, he kept his mouth shut.

Jisung stepped down off his bed and pulled his phone back out. He looked at the time. It was 9:43 in the morning.

_Might as well go to the salon now_ , he thought. _Nothing better to do._

He opened his texts, leaving Lino's message on "read" (as he often did since there were no reasonable cause to why he need to respond). In fact, he replied only to Minho: "Hey, I'm awake now. About to walk to the salon and store."

After only a few seconds, as if he'd been waiting since earlier, Minho responded. "Good morning! Did you sleep well? :)"

"I guess so. You?"

"I stayed up all night working on my artwork. Actually, I'd finished doing it and all and was wondering if you'd like to check or criticize it."

Jisung pouted in thought and shrugged to himself. _Why not?_ He wouldn't want to criticize him though. He was just kind of intrigued and lowkey wanted to see his art work.

"I'd love to!" he accepted, using an exclamation point; noteworthy because it was a rare punctuation mark for him. Before sending the text, he debated its presence, replacing it with a full-stop twice. He ended up deciding to keep it, though, sending the text with it as a show of good response.

"Great! I guess I'll have to email it to you, huh? It's in a ZIP file. It's a compilation. Wanna show you some of my other arts too."

Jisung frowned a bit at the sight of "e-mail" written without a hyphen. He knew that it was for a shortcut, but he preferred the hyphenated version. "Yeah. That's fine, though. What type of file does they contain though?"

"Oh." Minho responded, "I compiled all of the pictures in one PDF file and I don't think it'll work right on anything higher than version nine."

Jisung squinted his eyes at the message questionably. _Why does he need to save it on a ZIP folder if it only contains one PDF file?_

Didn't want to eavesdrop further more, he answered back. "Pretty sure I've got nine, actually." Jisung told him as he blindly reached over and pressed the power button on his laptop. The sound of "Adobe Reader 9" was kind of alarming. Though he'd never looked into which version he had, he could only assume that was it.

"Perfect! Can I have your email address, or would you like mine?"

Jisung replied with his e-mail address. He wasn't as concerned with giving that out as he was with his phone number. Minho already had his number anyway, and nothing bad happened so far, so he was thus assured that giving his e-mail would lead to no harm. "Send it to me while I'm at the store and I'll take a look on it on my laptop when I came back."

"Will do! I hope you like them. :)" Minho remarked.

Not knowing what else to counter back, Jisung smiled somewhat at his phone before turning its screen off. Sure enough, as he was slipping off his shorts, he heard a 'ding' sound signifying that he'd received an e-mail.

Jisung was a slender young man with slightly long, skinny legs. He stood at five feet seven inches, and actually a light weight one. Because of his thin legs, it wasn't difficult for him to find pants. That didn't matter though, because he'd been wearing the same clothes for at least three years. He pulled on his black ripped jeans and moved his phone into the front left pocket, then picked up his wallet from inside his cabinet. This, he put into his front right pocket. On the floor next to the bedroom door, he kept his soft-soled sneakers. 

He figured, because of the winter had just finished recently, it was still cold outside. He kept his jacket—black and puffy with a tan fur-trimmed hood—draped over the arm of the couch. After standing back up, he left his bedroom. Before picking up the coat, he pulled on his sweater's hood. Then, after putting the coat on, he let it fall back down.

His keys were where he usually left them: sitting on top of the kitchen island. He picked them up, then left his apartment. After locking his door, he put the keys into one of his coat pockets and then buried his hands into them. The hallway outside his apartment was quiet. Jisung looked right, then left. No one. He let out a deep sigh. With that, he headed for the staircase.

-

Jisung took the stairs down to the first floor and stepped outside. It was still cold, as he expected, but why did he felt that it would only going to get colder this month (even he though he knew it wasn't)? He stifled a laugh as he realized it was almost April. _It was so much for winter_ , he thought.

The walk to the salon and convenience store nearby was uneventful. Jisung spent most of it lost in his own thoughts. He passed a few strangers, all of which caused him to tense up. Since he lived in a poor area, he didn't trust anybody on the streets. He couldn't help but worry that one day, someone would stab him without warning as he was walking somewhere. It was a silly fear, an overreacting shit, but not one that he could suppress. Thus, whenever he passed anyone, he would puff out his chest in a poor attempt to seem intimidating. He doubted that it worked; he was slightly tall and slender. Usually, he walked slouched somewhat, looking down at the ground in front of his feet.

As he had planned earlier, his feet brought him first to nearest open salon and was welcomed by the woman on her middle age. She gave him a welcoming smile, which of course he responded back with a bow. He wouldn't want to make himself look like an asshole, even though he probably was, especially when the woman's smile was kind of heartwarming.

"Had cut your hair by yourself?" was the question that made him smile so _shy_. _His uneven hair was that really noticeable, huh?_ He nodded and answered with a soft. "Yeah." And with that, the woman immediately fixed the issue.

Determined to had a complete change with his appearance, he also requested dying his hair to black which at the end had successfully happened.

"You look so good with your new hair color and hairstyle, dear." the woman complimented him, "You look so good with black hair, it's absolutely gorgeous. You seems like a grown, matured man."

Feeling not to used with the compliments, Jisung felt his cheeks heated, his head being lowered slightly. "Thank you."

Nothing else to say, he gave her a final bow and showed her a satisfied smile. "I had to go now ma'am."

"I hope to see you again soon, dear!"

-

After going out to the salon, he went straight to the convenience store. He pulled open the door to the convenience store when he got there and stepped inside. A few feet in front of him, behind the counter, stood a café au lait-skinned man. Upon the sight of the visitor—a regular, no less—he opened his lips wide in a pleased smile. Doing so revealed how he had similarity with an appearance of a cute fox.

His name's Yang Jeongin. While he was assigned to ran the nearby convenience store which was owned by his parents, he also happened to live in the apartment right under Jisung's. The guy was on good terms with the younger—while he seemed a bit creepy, it was a _friendly_ sort of creepy that he could relate to. But at the same time, though he didn't want to admit it, he had a feeling that he was, in general, better than the guy. He hated the narcissistic part of himself that harbored such thoughts, but it was a part that helped him survive. As long as he was "better" than everybody else, then he could pretend he was a little bit less lonesome.

"Jisung hyung," Jeongin greeted through his smile, "it is good to see you!"

"It's good to see you too, Jeongin." Jisung forced himself to say back. He knew that his face suggested frustration at the younger guy's social subtlety, though this wasn't the case in his head.

"I have not seen you in a while hyung!" the younger guy said. Or at least that's what Jisung _thought_ he said. It was sometimes hard to understand Jeongin's words, what with the braces and all. But he gave him credit for trying, though. He did have a brace before so he could say that he felt kind of relatable with him.

The only valid response to come into Jisung's head was "You too." He didn't say it, though, because he wasn't sure whether it would come across as an odd thing to say. Then again, he was talking to a young man who's teeth has braces, so did it matter? Either way, he only hummed in response.

From the aisles of the small, modest shop, Jisung picked up his usual purchases: four boxes of macaroni and cheese, a loaf of bread, a tub of butter, a two-liter of pop, and a bag of potato chips—sour cream and onion flavor this time. When he placed his purchases on the counter, Jeongin smiled again.

"Since you look so awesome right now," he announced, "I'll give discount!" Then, he pointed at the potato chips. "Chips, free!"

To Jisung, it was a pleasant surprise. Being a regular had its fair share of small perks, it seemed. "Oh. Thanks." he stated with a soft chuckle.

Jeongin proceeded to ring up the rest of Jisung's purchases. He told the young man his total. "You pay with debit?" he then inquired, knowing Jisung's routine to when it comes to paying.

"Yep," Jisung answered. Pulling his wallet back out of his pocket was more difficult than he'd anticipated, though. Flustered, he laughed. "Hold on for a second. I've got it."

"Stuck, isn't it?" Jeongin chuckled. "No need to hurry." To fill the dead air, he asked, "You still dating your boyfriend hyung? His name was..."

Realizing he was talking about Lino, Jisung said, "Oh, no. We broke up back in February. Right exactly at our anniversary."

"Oh. So sorry."

"No worries." Finally, Jisung got his wallet free from the confines of his pocket. From a fold inside of it he pulled out his debit card. He stuck it into the card reader chip-first and entered his pin.

"Still friends?"

Jisung looked up at the other guy. "Hmm?"

"You and him."

The introvert looked back down at the screen, selecting his checking account. "Yeah," he answered in a mumble, "you could say that." At that moment, his phone started to ring in his other pocket.

Lino was the one calling. That's for sure.

"Speak of the devil and he shall appear," Jisung joked with his eyes still on the screen. Jeongin looked at him with a curious look. He didn't seem to understand, but he didn't say anything. Quickly, he bagged his customer's purchases. Jisung took this time to pocket his wallet and pull out his phone. Indeed, it was Lino calling him. Since it would spare him the awkwardness of Jeongin's typical "come again hyung!" monologue, he sighed and answered.

"I told you hyung, I don't like being on the phone while I'm outside," he complained the instant he knew Lino could hear him.

"Well, excuse me for not being psychic," Lino quipped back. "It was a long time since gave up trying to figure out any pattern for when you go outside."

Jeongin handed Jisung the bag of bought goods, which he took in his right hand. He waved at the younger worker, who returned the gesture with his typical youthful grin. Then he turned around and left the convenience store.

"Ya, listen," Lino began, "did you actually read my texts this time, or did you open and close them like you usually do?"

"You actually figured out now what I do?" Jisung asked him as he glanced his peripherals to soothe his nerves. "How long did that take you?"

"Funny, are you? I'm just worried about you, all right? I mean, I thought you were better than those entitled 'I don't need a job' pricks." The older guy let out a low grumble, "You sure complain about them a lot."

"I'm not entitled to anything," Jisung bit back. "But I _do_ have a job."

"Sitting around your computer all day's hardly a job, Han."

"Are we really going to keep on with this stupid argument? What about this can't you get through your thick goddamned skull Lino?" Jisung did his best to keep his voice low enough to not attract any unwanted attention to himself.

"What I can't 'get through my thick goddamned skull' is how you _don't want_ a job. It must get boring in your apartment, right?"

"Look, you aren't my parents. Hell, you're not even my boyfriend anymore. So don't lecture me on how to live my life."

_Silence_.

"...God forbid I see you as a little brother."

Jisung rolled his eyes so hard, he felt they may removed themselves from his skull. "Oh, pull your head in. Stop making excuses for yourself, man. You don't see me like a brother, you're just"—wanting to call him a "controlling bitch", but also not wanting to deal with the unintended consequence, Jisung shorten it. "—controlling."

Lino sighed in frustration. "Would you at least listen to me this once? Hear the job offer out like a rational human being?"

"No!" Jisung responded rudely and aggressively. "Even if it _is_ good, I'll continue to be furious."

"You wouldn't be the Han Jisung I know if you didn't." Despite everything, Jisung did know quite a bit about his nature—both the good and bad of it. "I'm going to start explaining now, okay?"

Jisung said nothing. In his mind he replied with sarcastic enthusiasm, "Okay," before immediately hanging up on him. In reality, though, while he himself had admit he was a prick, he wasn't _that_ much of a prick. Even so, he enjoyed the thought until Lino's voice assaulted his ears once more. He was like some sort of harpy from Hell. He wondered how, sometimes, he almost managed to tolerate him and vice versa.

"It's for a theater nearby," Lino explained of the job offer.

"Do I need to take a bus to get to it?" questioned Jisung, for the sake of being difficult.

"Probably? Unless you're keen on walking for forty minutes. If that's such a big problem, though, I'll drive you myself." Unlike Jisung, Lino had a car; in fact, he lived in his own house, part of a duplex on the other side of the city.

"What's the job for?"

"They need someone new to make posters and playbills for their productions."

Jisung puzzled over this for a moment. "So I need to leave my apartment for this? The hell _why?"_

"I never said you did. If you'd actually read my texts, we could've avoided that whole argument. I'm giving in to your stupid preference, okay? This time, anyway."

Now Jisung felt a little stupid. Yet, while this offer _was_ something he'd actually consider, he found himself hesitating. There were so many other artists out there. He would have a lot of competition if he did offer his services—competition that was better than him.

"I don't know," he hesitated. "I'd have to think about it."

"You never failed to amuse me, Han Jisung," Lino told him. "People already pay for your art, but you stay so humble."

"What do you mean?"

"I know you're concerned about them thinking your art is shit or something."

Rather than admit to this, Jisung responded, "I don't know what you mean." By now, he'd reached his apartment complex. He took off his coat before pulling the door open and decided to rush to the elevator, eager to reach the safety of his apartment.

"I sent a link to their website in my texts. Will you think about it?" Lino asked him as Jisung exited the elevator on his floor.

"No promises," Jisung answered, holding his phone with his shoulder as he reached into his coat pocket for his keys. "But _maybe_. What's the pay rate?"

"You don't care about the pay rate."

He was right, he didn't. " _Is_ there a pay rate?"

Lino laughed at the question like he was stupid, but still didn't answer. "Look, babe, I've gotta go run an errand."

"Don't call me babe."

An awkward pause. "Oh. Did I call you that? Whoops. Force of habit, I guess."

"You were saying something about letting me go?" Jisung closed and locked the door behind himself, then set the bag down onto the kitchen island.

"Well," teased his ex, "I could take my phone with me."

"I'm hanging up now."

"All right, bye. Don't kill yourself."

"Again," Jisung took his turn to poke fun, "no promises." The call then over, he took a deep breath.

Lino's taken a lot out of his energy just by only talking with him. He's so worn out now. How does Minho do _it?_

After setting his phone down, he unpacked the bag and put everything away, except for the cola, which he poured himself a cup of it. He chugged it and filled it up again before finally putting the bottle in the fridge. Then he set the cup down beside his phone. When he removed his coat, he threw it back down onto the couch. His phone went into his sweater pocket.

The cup of cola went with him into his bedroom, where he set it down beside his laptop. He slipped off his shoes and returned them to their place beside the bedroom door. When he went to sit down, he hesitated. Luckily, though he hadn't noticed it, he'd remembered the half-empty bowl of cereal he'd set down on the seat. He picked them up, sat down—ate the remaining food for the hell of it. Only then did he open his browser—Google Chrome—to finally check the e-mail from Minho.

Besides the attached ZIP file, titled simply "artworks.zip", the e-mail contained only, "Enjoy! - LMH". Jisung downloaded the manuscript without further hesitation. Before he extract it, though, he took out his phone and sent Minho another text.

"About to see it," he informed him. "Anything I should be prepared of beforehand?"

Quick as ever, Minho replied, "I don't want to spoil anything." This statement, like his previous, concluded with a smiley face.

Jisung sighed again. For some reason, he had a bad feeling about the file.

What if it's a virus or something?

_Pfft. A virus, in a PDF file?_

_You never know... It's possible._

_Don't be silly. Why would he go to so much trouble? It looks normal enough, anyway._

So he chose ignore his intuition. Although with some reluctance, he decided to open it—to see artworks of Minho for the very first time. He clicked on the file in the download bar and waited for the program to load. Then, he started giving attention to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello readers! my school has started the online schooling stuff and even though i want to update faster (like i usually do before), it seems that i can't right now. i'm trying to focus with my study but that doesn't mean i'll forget to update this story. so weekly update would be my thing now, i suppose. ahahhaha.
> 
> when i feel free though i'll try to update two times a week. sksksks.
> 
> but anyways, thanks for reading still. i appreciate it a lot! :))


	3. i'm here whenever you need me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was kind of short. but i'll make it up to y'all at the next chapter i promise!!!! ><

The first picture of Minho's artwork revealed its main subject: an orange, half man half cat. It was wearing a suit, and along its background, was a breathtaking view. They were colorful, and even the little detail could be noticeable, thanks to Minho's high quality camera though.

At first, he could just see it as an ordinary drawing of a half man half cat wearing a suit. But when he scrolled down and discovered the few more next paintings, he quickly discovered that it has a story. In the second picture, a mouse appeared and seemed to had a good acquaintance with the cat. Until he kept on scrolling that he'd eventually discovered that the mouse seemed to found a new friend, which weirdly was another cat. The _original_ cat watched from a far. The orange cat seemed to hate that, because the next thing he had witness from the artwork was that the cat is strangling the poor mouse. Maybe that was the reason why the others found his art works _creepy_ , just like what he had told him before.

All of his art works obviously focused not on the mouse, but on the murderous cat itself. The artworks have their twist in the sense that despite having breathtaking, colorful background, the subjects were being highlighted fully. It seemed that all of his paintings showed that the cat trusted the mouse enough that he escorted the latter to his world. But the mouse lied to him that he'd ended up putting him through hell.

In all honesty, it was a rather disturbing concept... Yet, Jisung found himself hooked and wanting more. He wasn't even a fan of anthropomorphism, but the way Minho conceptualize the painting was intoxicating. He drank Minho's paintings greedily, as if they were the elixir of life, as if he was reading a story. He'd even go so far as to say his artwork was of professional quality.

The final page of the PDF file had a header that read "About the Artist". Jisung wondered for a moment why it was there, but figured it was for him to find out more about his new acquaintance. In Minho's self-written bio, he referred to himself in third person. It read, "Lee Minho is a part-time dancing major student and part-time independent artist. He graduated from Gimpo Jeil Technical High School in his hometown of Gimpo. Since starting grade school, he has drawn four landscape paint works. His other hobbies include working out and doing volunteer work for charity organizations."

Jisung let out an heavy deep "Wow." to himself.

It was then that Jisung realized: if they'd met under different circumstances, he would've despised Minho. He would've hated him, even, if only out of envy toward his seemingly perfect life. Yet somehow, he didn't feel that way. Was it because he'd figured most people with that lifestyle to be snobs and boastful? And Minho had already proven that he was as friendly as they came. Jisung was growing more and more impressed. If he actually had a chance to be such a model citizen's friend, then why should he let silly paranoia stop him?

"That compilation was amazing!" Jisung texted to him. "You plan to continue these "cat-mouse' artworks, right?"

"Yeah," Minho answered. "I actually almost finished the last part."

Jisung smiled at his phone. "I'd love to see more."

Minho responded with an open-mouthed smiley, then asked: "So, you told me you're an artist?"

"Yep." Jisung answered. He felt nervous all of a sudden.

"I looked you up while you were away. Is this your art?" After this, Minho sent Jisung a picture. It was Jisung's most recent piece: a concept painting of the fictional version of Lino. The character resembled his ex is almost every way. The only striking difference was that the real Lino made a point of keeping his orange hair fallen on his forehead. His personal favorite parts of the image were his eyes; they were perfect, like Lino's. Unlike his ex-boyfriend, though, the character wore eyeliner and thick mascara.

"Yeah, that's Lino." Jisung answered, still staring at the drawing. "He's the main character of my drawing I mentioned before. I was thinking on putting it on a game that I had planned for a long time." Yes, it was true that he planned on doing a game, and he'd wanted that to happen so, so bad.

"Your art work is absolutely stunning." Minho told him. Jisung would've dismissed the compliment as a lie, but the lack of emoticons somehow made it seem more sincere.

"Thanks." was the only awkward response that Jisung could think of. He wanted to kick himself for not having anything better to say.

-

Many days have passed and it became a habit of Jisung to look forward for Minho's artworks. He was surprisingly patient and didn't expect himself that he would end up being like this. He even wondered one time if he could be able to try painting on a real canvas, would it be resulted prettily like those of Minho's artworks? He laughed at himself internally for having such thoughts. _Of course not fucker, the best thing that you could do on a real canvas was to draw a stick man._

Days had turned into week. They've seemed grown comfortable onto each other, talking everyday like they were actual real mates.

One day though, Minho opened something to Jisung.

"Jisung look. I was thinking if I could send you a video for my preparation for the dance competition. Just wanna know your thoughts with my performance."

Minho was always seeking for Jisung's approval, and he could say that he had grown used to it, even if they only met just a week, so he let himself be.

"Yes sure. Just send it on my e-mail."

"Thanks Jisung. :)" Minho sent. "I wanted to hear some honest comments from you, you know, if am I doing good or not because to be honest, I'm starting to get discourage after hearing what our mentor told me during my practice."

Jisung red the message repeatedly and processed the information.

Was he reading it right? Minho was feeling discouraged?

To be honest though, he wasn't good at comforting people. He was only good at listening. He was the type of person who didn't want to give advice, because there's a possibility that it may affect that person's decisions when it comes to resolving problems and he didn't want them to happen. In the end though, it will always them that who would decide what the next step would they do.

He was in the middle of having such thoughts when Minho messaged him again. "I feel like I wasn't good enough, even though I always tried so hard."

Jisung immediately responded, "Hey, don't say that. You might just slipped today, but that doesn't affect how good you're still doing."

He was waiting for Minho's response when his laptop dinged at the notification from his e-mail. Without hesitation, he opened the video sent by Minho and it welcomed him the whole body of Minho in a practice room. He squinted his eyes at the figure since the video was unexpectedly blurred. He clicked the quality settings of the video, but the video itself has its maximum quality which cannot exceed to 240p, so unfortunately, he couldn't see his face according to the way he wanted to see him. He couldn't clearly see Minho's face but he has a nice body figure. It was like just Lino's.

Jisung chuckled at his own playful thought. Why on earth did he suddenly thought of his ex while witnessing Minho's video? _Still can't move on?_ Jisung rolled his eyes internally. _Yeah sure, still can't move on your face. whatever._

When the video started to play, he instantly froze at his sitting position. His aesthetic dance figures look perfect in that way, more masculine but elegant too. The way he dances was just simple, no exaggerations, but despite having no knowledge when it comes to dancing, Jisung, himself could say that he danced so good. He suddenly wondered what was the expression he was using there, how he wish he could see them even just a little clearer.

"Woah," Jisung breathed as he stared at Minho's dancing in awe. He'd never found another man's dancing attractive before, but Minho was something else. The moment he noticed his infatuation, though, he shook the thought from his head.

_Come on, Jisung, you're not even into falling with someone fast! Even if Minho is a spunk... it has to be platonic. It has to be. Stupid to even_ think _otherwise._

"You did great." That was all he could say to Minho after watching his video. Feeling like he was lacking of something to say, he added, "Never seen a guy who dances with such superiority but elegant too. You did really great."

"Thank you Jisung. I appreciate it a lot. :)" 

Jisung stared at his message with a smile.

"If I may return to the subject of my dancing, though; I have a small problem with it."

"What's that?"

"I'm not too good at making campaign poster, to be honest. I need someone who can make art for my campaign poster for the dance competition. You told me you're for hire, and I like your style a lot. What do you think?"

Jisung stared at Minho's message for a long moment. He read it over twice, thrice, four times. Still, he was too surprised by the offer to even know where to begin.

_Is... Is this happening right now? Is he complementing me and asking me to make a poster for him? Am I dreaming?_

"I'd be willing to pay you extra for a commercial license. I trusted you with your skill and to be honest, I don't want to look for something else." Minho added.

"Sure." Jisung finally replied, "I'd love to." When he realized it seemed like he was only doing it for the offer of extra money, he said, "You don't need to pay me, though. I'd be more than happy to do it for free."

"Are you sure? I feel like I should pay you."

"No worries." Jisung insisted. "Call it a 'first-one-free' sort of deal. Let me know what you're thinking once you've got an idea, and I'll get right on it."

"All right, thank you! I owe you one, Jisung."

It wasn't until Jisung looked up from his phone that he realized the light for his laptop's webcam was on. He stared at the glowing yellow green circle in confusion for a good few seconds.

_That light means the webcam's active, doesn't it? But I don't have any programs open that could be using it..._

With his lips slightly opened, he scratched his head and closed his Gmail. Still, the light remained unblinking. So he leaned close and reached up to flick the little LED. It stayed lit. Curious now, he opened his task manager and skimmed the running processes. Nothing unusual caught his eye. Defeated but still curious, Jisung sat back in his chair with a creak and rubbed his lower lip with his fingers. As he did, he stared into the camera's lens.

Part of him panicked. He'd drilled it into his mind that the light meant the webcam was on. What else was there to think other than that someone was watching him? Yet, another part of him argued how stupid that idea was.

_Who in their right mind would want to waste time watching me? All I ever do is sit here, veg out, or draw. There's nothing to see, watching me._

To ease his mind, he decided to chalk the light up to a hardware error. It might be registering as on, but it wasn't. His laptop _was_ getting awfully old. He wouldn't be too surprised if the light remained on forever. So, with that, he decided to go about his usual behavior of ignoring the webcam altogether. It wasn't as though he ever used it, anyway.

His phone dinged, so he looked down at it. Minho had asked, "Can I see a picture of you?"

Figuring he should return the favor, as Minho had already revealed some facts of himself, Jisung looked through his gallery. It was hard to find pictures of himself, since he had his artworks and plentiful art resources saved. After at least three minutes, he finally found a selfie he looked semi-decent in. It was a few months old, but his appearance had hardly changed since then. He went to send it to Minho, but accidentally tapped on an old photo of him and Lino instead.

"Holy shit," he mumbled to himself. _Serves me right for not deleting it..._

Jisung waited for Minho's response. It took long for the other guy to respond unexpectedly and it made him question himself if he offended him with the picture or anything. _He didn't do anything bad, right?_

"Who is he?" Minho messaged him in an instant that made Jisung stopped on scrolling through their previous conversations. "He looks very _familiar_."

"I didn't mean to send this one." Jisung confessed, flustered. "That's my ex-boyfriend, Lino. I based the character that I made off of him."

"Oh." Minho sent, then questioned, "Ex? What happened between you two?"

Jisung paused before answering. It wasn't any of Minho's business anymore.

"Sorry. I don't mean to pry. Only curious."

Deciding that he meant no harm, Jisung decided to answer anyway. "I'm pretty sure he broke up with me because he has a hard time understanding my choice to do digital art for pay. Thinks I should get a 'real job'. He was controlling but, at the same time, sort of hypocritical."

"How so?"

"Well, he kept wanting to plan my life, but whenever I so much as suggested something for him, he'd fly off the handle. Like he had something to prove by not listening to me, you know?"

"Stubborn?"

"That's an understatement."

"My mother was the same way," Minho related. "Though, to be fair, I guess I had no right to give her suggestions, being her child and all."

Jisung chuckled, but didn't type a response.

"Listen." Minho then said, "We met more than a week ago, but I want you to know you can talk to me whenever you need. I love listening to people. Being a former introvert myself, I know that you must need someone to vent to. I won't judge or ignore you. I'm here whenever you need me, Jisung." Again, he ended his text with a smiley face.

Not used to experiencing human kindness, Jisung felt a warm wash of gratitude. He couldn't stop himself from making a dorky-but-pleased smile. It took him a little bit too long to think of a response that didn't come off as rude in his head, though. He settled on, "That means a lot to hear. I don't have anyone to talk to, but somehow, I feel like I can trust you. Thank you."

"Don't worry." was Minho's response. This mimicry only made Jisung happier.

After a half hour that Jisung spent listening to music on his laptop, Minho texted him a concept for his poster. He requested a simple design, without any of his pictures. Though Jisung didn't prefer on editing posters with only unique texts and catchy phrases on them, he figured this could be a good practice. He started working on the poster only moments later.

He had finished the clean version of the line art when he noticed he had an unread e-mail. It was from his mother, to inform him that she'd be unable to give him rent money that month.

Jisung gulped as he stared at the e-mail with eyes like those of a deer caught in headlights. He made money from commissions, sure, but nowhere near enough to cover his rent. He was almost 457,458 KRW short, his account balance at only 546,662 KRW. To make matters worse, he only had until April 11—three days—to come up with the funds to cover the difference. In that instant, he realized how much he relied on his mother's money and how completely and utterly screwed he was.

Not knowing what else to do, Jisung got up and started to pace. As he did, he ran his fingers through his newly dyed hair. His phone dinged as he got a new text, but he took several minutes to check it. When he did, he found it was Minho again.

"So, how are you?" he'd asked.

What a bloody timing. If Jisung didn't know any better, he'd think he _knows_ he's panicking right now.

Against his own better judgment, he chose now to pick the artist up on his offer. "Found out I might be screwed." he responded in a casual sort of way.

"What's the matter?"

"I need about 425,435.94 KRW by the 11th, but I only make 228,729 KRW at most when I open commissions, and that's on a good week."

"For what, rent?"

_Good guess._ "Yeah. I live in an apartment."

"Oh noes."

"You can say that again. I'm freaking out, to be honest. Don't wanna think my landlord would have any issue kicking me out."

"What are you going to do?"

"No clue, man. I don't even know if there's a point in opening commissions. I've already got so many to do next month..."

"Try not to worry about it." Minho, apparently an optimist, assured. "Things aren't as dreadful as they seem."

_Easy for you to say_ , Jisung thought.

A few hours later and it was past midnight. Jisung had spent most of this time worrying. Though he did make himself mac and cheese at some point, he ended up putting it into the fridge for later. He was too nervous to eat. Deep down, he knew that Minho was likely right: everything would turn out fine. But he was a pessimist, and a realist even more so. It was a real possibility to him that his landlord would kick him out the instant he suggested not being able to pay rent. The thought terrified him. Where would he go? Back home, with his parents? To stay in the same house as his money-grubbing father again?

_He'd rather kill himself._

Falling asleep that night was harder than the last, even with Minho texting him reassurances.

"You'll be fine." he claimed positively, and, "Everything will be okay." and, "It will be alright." and, "Don't worry."

Jisung had nightmares that night, but when he jolted awake at eight in the morning, he couldn't remember much them. He checked his phone. Minho had stopped texting him at a little past two in the morning, but had asked if he was awake at half past six. He decided not to answer yet, instead standing up. He'd forgotten to take off his jeans, had left his pale blue hoodie draped over the back of the chair. As he put it on, he realized that he'd also forgotten to turn off his laptop. It was in sleep mode, but still the webcam's light was on.

_Definitely a hardware issue, then._

For a while he only sat there and stared at the dimmed laptop screen. Then he woke it up. He felt like he should check his bank account to confirm how screwed he was, so he did. His grogginess disappeared all at once when he saw his account balance.

1,061,302.56 KRW.

He blinked once, then twice, then rubbed his eyes to make sure he wasn't imagining the numbers on his screen.

That... That's not _possible_. Last night he only had 537,513.15 KRW-something, didn't he?

Flustered, he checked his recent account activity. At 2:32 AM on the dot, he'd received a deposit of 514,640.25, forwarded through from PayPal. The only way this could be possible was...

With shaky hands, Jisung logged into his Ko-fi account. He mistyped his password the first attempt and cursed, but got it right on the second try. Sure enough, he'd received an anonymous donation at 2:05 AM. The donator had purchased 1,350 coffees for him at 3 dollar each, which is equivalent to 3,430.93 KRW, adding up to $450. Jisung didn't think this miracle could get any better until he noticed the note left with the generous gift. When he read it, he almost cried in surprise.

"I hope this helps. Keep up the good work! ;) — LMH".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello readers skskksks. i am very sorry for the late update, i've been busy doing programming shits and all of the asynchronous activities that was given to us. can't believe that i updated this chapter on this day though hahahha. 
> 
> but anyways i hope you like what happened in here. the upcoming chapters will all be worth the wait! i guarantee that to y'all!!! <3
> 
> see you soon!


	4. say my name (cause there's only one that says it like you)

It took Jisung a few minutes to regain any sense of composure, but when he finally did, the first thing he did was to text Minho. He began his question with "Did you...", but decided to stop typing it. Of course _he_ did. The proof was right in front of him in the form of his initials at the end of the donation note. So, with nothing else to say, too stunned to form a coherent sentence, Jisung simply wrote: "Holy fucking shit."

"Surprised?" Minho asked with a winking emoji. "I told you not to worry, didn't I?"

Jisung couldn't even began thinking straight. It's just he couldn't understand why someone like Minho could give him so much money in an instant. "No way! How? Why?"

"You seemed stressed out last night. I couldn't let a good guy like you suffer like that."

"But what about you?" he asked, still feeling concern for the other guy. He could still use the money on his everyday needs, he must needed them.

"Oh, I've got more money than I know what to do with. I'd be more than happy to give you more if you need. I mean, what's the point of having a lot of something if you can't share, right?"

When Jisung felt his mouth hanging open, he snapped and closed it back shut.

This can't be real, can it? By pure chance, he had befriended the most generous, unselfish rich guy he have ever met. It has to be a huge joke, right? Fake money, or something?

Deciding it would be rude to inquire for the guy's income, he instead asked, "Do you do something other than paint and dance?"

"Well, I was in medical school for a bit, but I'm taking a year off."

_Jesus Christ, he is rich._ And there's anything and everything he can do about it. 

"I get most of my money from my father. He's a nephrologist."

"Wow..." Jisung reacted exaggerately. It was a shameful trait of his: his desire to be financially secure. While Minho's wealth had most of him unfazed, there was a small part of him trying to figure out a way to get more of it from him. His desire to be a decent person, though, has eaten by his greed, as it usually did. It only bothered him that there was even a part of him that went against his good disposition to begin with.

"I'm curious..." the rich painter said. "What do your parents do, Jisung?"

The younger guy suddenly felt his mood sour. His parents weren't a good topic for him. He'd left to live on his own against his mother's wishes because of his father. In fact, his father was the reason that he needed Minho's money to begin with.

Mr. Han was a compulsive gambler. He loved the feeling of risking it all with the promise of riches if he was good enough. The problem being that, well, he _wasn't_ good enough. He hadn't won more a single time in at least thirteen years. The one time he had won, it'd been for an empty pot. His mother kept telling her husband to stop, to which he kept saying he would. But it was always only a matter of time before funds started pouring from his mother's bank account like water down a drain.

Jisung had left when his father stole his wallet one night got into _his_ bank account. 342,651.00 KRW saved up from commissions, gone in seconds. The shouting match the next morning was one that people the next street over could've heard. Only a few days later, right after the day he graduated, he'd moved out, into the apartment he lived in now.

"My mother's a real estate agent." Jisung finally answered.

"That's cool!" Minho enthused.

_Not really_ , Jisung thought to himself.

"Your father?"

"He's unemployed." was the nicest answer, thus the one that Jisung chose.

"Not quite the conventional family, then?" Whether this question was unintentional or not, Jisung realized it was somewhat of a controversial comment to make. He didn't take offense at it, though, because he agreed.

"You could say that."

After a moment, Minho asked, "I'd like to hear your voice. Could we continue this conversation in a phone call?"

Jisung had to admit it. He was curious to find out what Minho sounded like, too. "Sure, sounds good to me."

A few seconds later, his ringtone started. Sure enough, it was Minho calling. He answered. Anxious all of the sudden, he was slow in bringing the phone up to his ear.

"Jisung?"

Jisung felt his heart was about to explode. Not only did Minho physically look good with his body, but his voice was kind of slightly high pitch and smooth as silk. Hearing that voice say his name sent a shiver down his spine; he couldn't help but let out a deep exhale. "Wow," he found himself thinking. "Wow, wow. Wow."

It wasn't until Minho let out an adorable laugh that he realized he'd whispered those thoughts right into the phone. "Oh God," he panicked. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean, like... I just..."

"It's fine Jisung, it's fine," Minho assured. He actually sounded pleased, if not somehow relieved. "You seemed to like the sound of my voice, don't you? Yours is nice as well."

Jisung let out a nervous chuckle. "Uh, yeah... Yeah, thank you. Just finally adjusted speaking Korean after I came from Malaysia."

"Malaysia?" He sounded concerned. "Is that where you are now?"

"Ha, uhh, no, no. I live in, um... Incheon. Yeah." The younger guy wasn't sure why he was so _flustered_. It was like he was talking to a pretty girl for the first time.

_Get it together, Jisung_ , he scolded himself in his head, making sure that this time he didn't say it under his breath.

"Say my name?"

Jisung's eyebrows raised in an instant. He thought this was an odd request. But then he realized: _what the hell do he know in socializing? What the fuck he could do? He hardly ever speak to anyone._ "Minho," he obliged the request, unable to hide the slight nervousness in his voice.

"It sounds _so_ good when you say it," praised the painter with sudden, serious voice. Before Jisung could react to how uncomfortable that comment made him, Minho asked, "So... What do you say we get to know each other some more?"

They spoke for three hours—until eleven in the morning—about various subjects. Jisung learned that Minho took a program of Bachelor of Science in Psychology when he was at college, earned at Seoul National University. He admitted that, though it was only a four year program, he'd earned it a year late due to skipping out to help his father. 

"Everything I learned in university, I could've learned online for free."

Jisung chuckled. "So I've heard. Why do people still go, then?"

"I guess because people have an easier time when they can _prove_ they went schooling and finished their studies."

"Hmm. Yeah, good point."

"Anyway. Tell me about yourself, Jisung."

Jisung turned his gaze on his side, feeling shy. "Ha, ha, ha. There's nothing much to say about me."

"What are your other friends like?"

"Other friends?" Jisung found himself a bit taken aback by the question. "I, uhh... I don't have any. I only have Lino hyung. And I guess you, now, too."

"Wait, wait, wait. You're still friends with your ex, even after he tried to control you? Even after he _broke up_ with you?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, until you came around, he was all I had."

As if disappointed, Minho sighed. "Look, I'll teach you how to start being more outgoing, all right?"

"Nah, that's, uh, that's fine." Jisung let out a short, half-suppressed laugh. "I'm fine with only having two friends. Less trouble for me."

"Sure, but it feels good to talk with others, doesn't it? Here's what you do, Jisung:"—he paused—"let go of your inhibitions."

Something about those five words, the way Minho said them, made them reverberate in Jisung's mind. There was an intensity to them that highlighted their importance. He was somehow certain these words would follow him to the grave, creating some huge impact in his life before then. If he didn't know any better, he'd say they felt like they were foreshadowing something dark.

_Shut up, Jisung. That's your paranoia talking._

"Compliment the random people you meet outside. Say hi to everyone so often."

Jisung cringed and wrinkled his face in simultaneous uncertainty. As if sensing this, Minho continued talking through a laugh, "Hear me out! You might think people will think you're weird if you do that, but believe me when I say this: people _love_ to be noticed. If you make them feel welcome by starting a conversation or by complimenting them, I promise you nothing bad will come of it. You'll feel better, they'll feel better, and who knows, you might even make someone's day."

While Jisung considered Minho's words, he was still on thinking and taking note about it. When he imagined someone complimenting _him_ , it only put him on edge.

Someone complimenting him out of the blue like that must have ulterior motives. Is _he_ wrong to think that way?

"I don't know, Minho. It seems pretty strange to me."

"Give it a shot with a cashier or something next time you go shopping. You'd be surprised."

Jeongin popped into Jisung's mind. _Is there even anything to compliment the young man on? What would I say? "Nice smile"?_

"Promise me you'll give it a shot."

Jisung exhaled. "Fine, I guess..."

_"Promise_ me."

"I promise, I'll... _try_."

"Very good, Jisung." Before Jisung could react to that, Minho cut him off. "Hey, listen, I've got an important stuff to attend to. Let's talk later?"

"Uhh, yeah. Sure."

"Thank you for understanding. Bye, Jisung."

"Yeah, bye."

After hearing the line drop, Jisung pulled the phone away from his ear. For a moment he sat there staring into space, thinking about Minho's suggestions.

_"Let go of your inhibitions..."_ The thought of how he said it alone makes him feel weird. Kind of... weird in a good way, but still weird nonetheless. _What did he mean by that?_ Jisung's certain there was a hidden meaning to it...

His phone vibrated, pulling his attention onto it. It was one final text from Minho, before he apparently left to preoccupy himself.

"I love the sound of your voice. I'll call again tonight if I can. Have a good day!"

Jisung shivered, shaking his head at the sudden feeling. He got up and microwaved his food from the night before, then started eating it. As he did, he watched some videos from a YouTube artists: a married with a channel named SLICE n RICE. They were funny, newlywed couple that Jisung was vaguely familiar with.

Jisung had found himself watching a lot of their and other vloggers videos as of late, but he'd always strayed back from the couple's regular vlogs. He like watching SLICE n RICE's vlogs because he didn't think the couple's videos unbearable. Plus, the fact that they have married despite of their different races made him more interesting to watch to somehow.

When he'd finished his meal, he stood up and paced around his bed room. He couldn't stop thinking about Minho for some reason. There was a heavy feeling in his chest that forced him to let out a sigh. To his own confusion, he was still flustered.

_He wanted to hear him say his name again..._

By ten that night, he'd expected to have relaxed, but he hadn't. In fact, as the day wore on and it grew ever closer to eleven, he only felt worse. By then, his discomfort had evolved into something different—a feeling that embarrassed him even though he was alone in the apartment.

He was so confused... He knew he's not into infatuating fast to someone! But...

After downloading the video onto his phone and looking at Minho's blurred figure again, he realized that his stupid, teenager body needed release. It didn't seem to care if Minho was a straight or not; his overall attractiveness was all that mattered. There he was, sitting on his bed in the dark, biting some of his nails as he watched Minho's body roll.

_This is stupid_ , he thought as he tried to resist, _and weird. This is stupid, weird, and creepy. Not to mention sudden!_

It wasn't that Jisung had never masturbated. Of course he had, more than a few times, as a horny, curious teenager. He was beyond twenty, its quite normal to feel that way. Plus, he'd never done it while thinking of anyone in particular, never mind while staring at their video. He felt like a creep.

_But if this is his brain's way of exploring his sexual needs, it sure has a fucked up way of going about it! Oh, he hopes Minho doesn't call him now..._

Jisung laid on his side and hid himself under the covers. Even though no one would walk in on him, since he lived on his own, it helped keep his shame in check. He spat in his palm and laid his hand on himself. Soon after, he was panting hard, the pace of his hand becoming fast, and well on his way to completion. It was getting unbearably hot under the covers. His biggest problem was that he had a tendency to be awfully loud. When he realized his mouth was hanging open and letting out heavy breaths, he forced himself to bite his lip so he couldn't moan or scream too loud. He was such a quivering mess.

A twitch shook him when his phone dinged. It was Minho texting him, of course. "Listen, Jisung..."

Jisung froze as at best as he could, but couldn't stop his shaking.

_Oh, God no. Not now._ At least he was not calling him, but still, he wanted Minho to stop texting him. _He didn't want to imagine his voice right now._

He was so close, but still reluctant about finishing what he'd started. If it wasn't already, completing would put his small infatuation with the guy in distress. Picturing Minho saying his text aloud wasn't helping him to hold back. Despite this, he opened the text anyway, though it made him feel even weirder about what he was doing.

"I know this might be coming way out of a sudden, especially since we've only known each other for more than a week now... but I've never been the type to keep my feelings hidden."

Jisung was only half able to comprehend what Minho was saying. His heart was racing. _What did he mean?_

_If he's saying what he think he's saying, then he'll definitely going to..._ His thoughts hitched there. It was too shameful for him to even think about finishing now, but he wasn't sure if it was preventable.

"I like you, Jisung. A lot. I'm not sure how this happened. It's so sudden. I hardly even know you. But I want to give us a try, if you'd consider me."

It was, indeed, sudden. _Very_ sudden. It might've taken Jisung aback were he not currently jerking off to his video. All at once, upon reading Minho's abrupt confession, the artist completed with a choke. The sequential tensing and releasing of every muscle in his body was pure bliss. So much so, that for a sweet moment he was almost able to forget his shame. It was during that moment that he again looked at his phone.

"I want to meet you in person," Minho had sent. With soft panting and bleary eyes, Jisung wrote an impulsive response: "Okay."

-

He was with Lino, talking to him somewhere. The surroundings didn't matter much. All he cared about was his admiration with beautiful man by his side. His ex-boyfriend approached and asked something. Without missing a beat, Jisung answered, glowing with confidence. As long as he had Lino by his side, he felt he could do anything. His inhibitions were non-existent. He was happier than he'd been again in years.

That was when the cat made by Minho showed up. It was as tall as Lino, but its ears made it seem ever taller. When he saw it looking around nearby, something in his gut told him that it was searching for them. The ridiculous appearance of Minho's subject on his painting didn't soothe him in the slightest. Something about the half man half cat walking around in the real world _mortified_ him.

Before it caught sight of them, Jisung grabbed Lino's arm and pulled him along as he took off running. He found himself in a stairwell, zooming up it as fast as he could but it feeling like he was moving in slow motion. Lino took off ahead of him. His head was spinning, filling with dread. The stairwell never ended. He could hear the patter of half man half cat feet steadily approaching. One of Jisung's worst fears was the sensation of being chased by someone—or some _thing_ in this case—that he couldn't outrun and escape of.

When he jolted awake in a cold sweat, relief washed over him. He struggled to catch his breath. His covers were a mess, with him only half underneath them. The nightmare still fresh in his memory, Jisung reached down to the floor for his phone. He hadn't plugged it in, so its battery was close to empty. The first thing he saw upon turning it on were the texts between himself and Minho.

"I want to meet you in person."

"Okay."

_Holy shit._

Jisung cringed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, almost forgotten his dream earlier. His little experiment from last night came flooding back to him. Minho sure had odd timing; his texts always seemed to come at either the perfect time or the worst time. It was almost like he knew exactly what Jisung was doing at any moment.

He read over his friend's texts once more with a better eye. It was somewhat dismaying to find that he hadn't imagined Minho's confession. The rich painter actually had revealed that he was beginning to develop feelings for him. Jisung felt awkward about the whole thing. He'd agreed to meet Minho in person, but found himself regretting it.

_Would it be rude to take it back now? Minho hasn't replied to the text. What does the silence mean? Shit, what if he's on his way to Incheon or something?_

Whatever the case, Jisung wasn't ready to meet him. He figured that he'd better tell him now rather than let him do something impulsive. That thought led Jisung to another: Where did Minho live? What were the odds of Omegle pairing him up with a random person within a hundred mile radius?

Jisung took a deep breath to steady himself before writing Minho a text. "I'm not ready to meet you yet," he confessed, deciding to get straight to the point. "I'm sorry if I led you on. I was half-asleep when I said yes."

Minho didn't respond. He began a reply, but the ellipses bubble disappeared as though he'd decided against it in an instant.

Before Jisung could start worrying about this, his phone started to ring in his hand. Lino was calling him, the same guy whom he had dreamt of earlier. He looked at the time: 7:31 in the morning. Deciding (and hoping) that Minho would text him back soon enough, he sighed and answered his call. His voice was raspy from sleep as he began with, "Yeah?"

"Oh, sorry," he said. "Did I wake you?"

"No," Jisung answered as he rubbed his eye with his free hand. "I woke up a minute ago on my own."

"Ah, okay. Listen." He sounded excited about something. "You want to go out for breakfast with me at you-know-where?"

Jisung hummed in fatigue. Lino was talking about a nice little restaurant a few blocks away from his house. Though they'd gone to it together several times and even had their first date there, neither of them could ever remember what it was actually called.

"What's the occasion?" he asked him with suspicion in his dry voice.

"Does there need to be an occasion?"

"You wouldn't sound so eager otherwise."

"Ha! You got me," he confessed. "I have some good news. It doesn't affect you at all, but I'm very excited, so I want to talk to someone."

"And you can't come to my apartment, why?" he slightly whines.

"I'm hungry, and we haven't been to that restaurant in ages."

"Fair enough."

"Besides, I _am_ at your apartment."

Jisung narrowed his eyes, shock's could be seen on his face. "What? Why?"

"Uhh, to pick you up, stupid. I'm standing outside your front door. Don't leave me out here too long."

The artist sighed, immediately marching out of the bedroom. "Alright. I'll get dressed."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S LEE KNOW'S BIRTHDAY TODAY WHOOOOO!!! 
> 
> #HappyLeeKnowDay  
> #기여운_리노야_생일축하해  
> #GlowingGemLeeKnow
> 
> HoLy mOly can't believe we've already reached 100+ kudos skskkks thanks for showing your support to this story!! 
> 
> Next chapter would be the start of 'it', if you get what I mean. e u e double chapter update next week here we go!!! wuhoo let's goo!!


	5. all i can taste is this moment and all i can breathe is your life (PART 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!!!]
> 
> Warning for the two new chapters: Murder (but not detailed), use of blood as paint and character death (i'm so sorry for this) :((

Before he knew it, he was sitting across from Lino in the restaurant. He snapped his fingers at him, causing him to snap also from the half conscious state he'd been lost in the entire way there. 

"Stop shaking your leg," he scolded lightly.

He nodded a bit and did as he asked. They already have their drinks, and Lino sipped on his as he eyed his ex-boyfriend sharply like a hawk. They both knew he was out of it. He felt unrested, for once, but most of all his mind kept running back to Minho. The painter hadn't said so much a word since he turned him down. Jisung didn't know if he'd said the right thing.

_Was Minho upset with him?_

"Hey, you okay?"

Jisung looked up at Lino with his eyebrows furrowed, startled by his voice. "Huh?" he asked without any social grace, like he was still out of the real world.

This didn't faze Lino, who had long adjusted to his current behavior. "You seem more detached from reality than usual."

The younger guy shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up, then ran a cold palm down his face. "I'm okay," he insisted. "No worries. What did you want to tell me?"

"You know Taecyeon? The kindly but perpetually stressed Account Supervisor?"

Jisung knew whom he was referring to. He just knew him with his face, but never had the chance to talk to him. "Yeah?"

"Well, he was all set to accept a higher position overseas, and he personally handpicked me as his replacement!"

To his own surprise, Jisung didn't find Lino's gushing intolerable, but he gave him a smile anyways. "Oh. Uhh, congrats!"

"I didn't know yet when will I start though," he confessed as he plays his glass of drink with his hand.

"Why? You haven't asked them yet?"

He shrugged. "Beats me, but I'm not complaining, just waiting for the go signal."

"I remember how you always wanted everything fast."

"Ahhh, I know, but not this one. Things take time, unless you want to do _it_ fast with me now." Jisung knew he was flirting, kind of contrasting to what Lino was expressing on his face. _Innocent outside but flirty_ _inside_.

"Not gonna happen," he taunted back with a smirk.

Lino chuckled and took another quiet, gentle sip of his drink. There was a pause, then the tone of the conversation shifted. To further accent it, the businessman conceded, "I've missed you Hannie, you know."

Jisung didn't say anything. Instead, he decided to let Lino continue to talk. As he did, he stared at the ice cubes in his drink as if they had answers.

"We don't hang out as much as we used to. That sucks, because you're my best friend. I know I'm annoying sometimes, and that I want what's best for my friends a little bit too aggressively, but..." He blinked a few times, squinting back sadness away, and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. After another sip of his drink, he concluded, "Ahhh. Don't take this the wrong way. I'm not asking for us to get back together or anything. I just miss you, that's all. I want to see you more often than I do now."

He was going to let Lino's words to drop without comment, but then Minho's suggestion popped back into his head.

_"If you make them feel welcome... who knows—you might even make someone's day."_

Lino was already aware that Jisung wasn't going to reply. He took a deep breath through his nose and again used his straw to stir his drink. When he opened his mouth to change the subject, though, Jisung did as well.

"I miss you, too," he blurted softly. 

It was obvious from Lino's expression he'd stunned him. He hadn't expected Jisung to share his feelings; even if he did, he hadn't expected him to admit it. "You do?"

"Yeah," he said. He was awkward about it, of course, since he'd never said anything like this before. Talking about his feelings wasn't something he made a habit of, but he wanted to keep his promise to Minho by making someone happy. "I know it, uhh, might not seem like it or you might not notice, but... I do enjoy being friends with you, hyung. Despite all those, uh, 'flaws' that you pointed out. But you know, I say 'flaws' with quotation marks, because you seem to think they are, but I mean... they're not, are they?"

With an unreadable look on his face, Lino cocked his head to the side. It looked like he didn't want to say anything, just in case he scare him out of talking. The truth, though, was that Jisung found himself struggling. He was pretty sure his rambling wasn't coming across as anything other than ranting.

"I mean, they're... They're what make you... well, _you_. Sure, you don't know when to shut up sometimes, and you care way too much about what other people do, but... You do it because you care, and honestly, I... I mean I guess I kind of like that about you."

Lino kept staring at him, and that made Jisung finally stared back like he was waiting for him to say something. It made Jisung worried that he'd said all the wrong things. It wouldn't surprise him if he'd made a total mess of it. He anticipated him getting up and leaving, perhaps not without splashing his drink on him. But then, it happened: Lino smiled.

"Well," he said softly. "That was unexpected. Not unwelcome, but... a pleasant surprise. Are you sure you're okay?"

Jisung didn't knew why, but he felt like he wanted to curl the corner of his lips upward.

And he _did_ , his eyes never leave the other's while doing it so. "I'm more than okay, _Linoring_."

Lino let out a soft 'pffft' which made them both laugh at the end.

_I remember when I used to think he was the prettiest guy in Incheon, whenever he laugh adorably at every small things I did... Hell, who am I kidding? I still think of those. What happened to us? Why does it have to end up like this?_ He kept these questions to himself, though he knew he was thinking them, too.

After breakfast, Lino drove him home. They agreed to meet again in a few days, then he reminded him that he would call him tomorrow. As Jisung was about to leave out of the car, Lino lets out a soft _'Hannie, wait',_ and a few rustling noises going on. He was about to turn to him when he froze at the recognizable feeling of soft lips on his cheek _._ The romantic sound of lips over his cheek and intake of other's breath have Jisung's heart _melt_. He gave his ex-boyfriend a shock look, and Lino just pulled away with a shy, yet satisfied smile.

"What?" Lino asked, "Do you have a plan on leaving or nah? Because if you don't had any plans yet then I might-"

"No no I'm leaving. Thanks for the ride." Feeling flustered, Jisung immediately went out and rushed his apartment without looking back at Lino. When he immediately reached the apartment with unlocking door and everything, he paced straight right to the kitchen counter, trying to calm his beating heart with continuous breathing. Until he decided to facepalm himself when realized that he was wearing a smile on his face. 

After that, though, in just the blink of an eye, the rest of the day had been uneventful for Jisung. Minho didn't text him back. Lino did, though.

"Thanks for what you said there." his message typed. "It meant a lot to me."

With a small smile, suddenly too anxious over Minho to feel happy knowing that he hadn't replied yet, he responded, "No worries, hyung."

-

The following day, Jisung went back to the convenience store to use the ATM there. Having kept his promise to Minho in mind, when Yang Jeongin greeted him, he returned the sentiment for once.

"Jisung hyung! Good to see you again!"

"Good to see you, too, Jeongin-ah!"

Jeongin also seemed surprised at what he did. "Having a good day?"

"So far," Jisung answered. Somewhat ironic to him was that he wasn't; Minho hadn't responded and Lino hadn't called him like he'd said. Stress was one of the strongest emotions he felt at the moment, second only to anxiety. After taking out rent money to give to his landlord, he decided to ask Jeongin, "Anyway, how are you?"

With his regular adorable grin, Jeongin answered, "Great, great. My older brother, he is having wedding soon."

"Oh, really?" Jisung's surprise was genuine; it was news to him that Jeongin had a brother, let alone a younger brother. Though, he supposed he could've guessed from how old the young man looked. "Well, best of luck to them."

Jeongin nodded. "So proud of him."

Jisung paid his landlord a visit and gave him the money. Then he returned to his apartment. Once inside, he draped his coat over the couch as usual and looked at his phone. Lino still hadn't even tried to call him after the day they met at the restaurant. Minho was also as unresponsive as ever. He sighed. Had he lost both of them somehow?

Too shy to initiate talking with Minho, he decided to message his ex-boyfriend instead. 

"Lino hyung," he texted his ex, "you there?" He spent a few hours listening to music and working on Minho's request before looking at his phone again.

_He hasn't even read it. I've been sending him texts all day, and he hasn't looked at any of them. Where is he? He's not the type to leave his phone unattended. He checks it like clockwork. If he's upset somehow, he would've at least left my texts on read as seething. It doesn't make any sense..._

It was getting dark outside by the time his phone vibrated. The vibration startled him. Panic-stricken, he looked at the screen.

"How good are you at photo editing?" Minho had asked him.

Jisung blinked a few times. _He disappears for two days_ , he thought, _then comes back out of the blue asking me how good I am at photo editing?_

On his defense, he replied, "Where were you?"

The painter ignored the question. "I took some pictures in the dark and I need someone to salvage them. I couldn't use flash, but they're i m p o r t a n t. :)" He even put spaces between the letters of "important" to stress the word.

Jisung sighed in defeat. He wasn't pleased, but at least Minho was talking to him now. There was hope. "I can't promise anything, but I can give it a shot."

"Ohh, I'd appreciate it, thanks."

Before he could respond on to it, Minho sent him another text message, "BUT BUT BUT before that, I would like to share you a good news. Guess what, I already finished the last part of my art works."

Jisung raised his eyebrows in half confusion and half excitement. He has been waiting for the last part since last week, but he'd never expected that he'll finish his artwork so _fast_.

"Do you want to see it?" Minho asked with a winking emoji, and Jisung had no choice but to respond a short "Sure, of course!"

His phone dinged in his hand with a new notification: an e-mail. What struck Jisung as a tad odd was that the e-mail wasn't from Minho. At least, it didn't _say_ it was. Rather, it was from a foreign Outlook address.

_What the hell?_

He checked the e-mail on his laptop. There was one .jpeg attachment and there, in an instant, he startled and let out a loud "Woah!" due to his shockness. The image showed a bloody red, splashes of paint in the canvas. The body of the message read, with a smiley face, "Here it is."

Jisung didn't know how to respond with this art work. He was expecting to see some cat-mouse interaction like he had seen on his previous artworks, but this? Everything's just pure _red._ His pessimist mind told him that it was a blood, because to be honest, the color of the paint was just like blood itself. But somehow, the rationalistic part of his mind dictated him that he just used a red paint.

"How was it?" Minho typed.

"I didn't expected this at all. But it's good."

"Did you like it? :)"

Jisung stopped, but ended up responding anyways. "Yeah. I like it."

"That's very nice of you. Thanks Jisung. :)"

The artist just stared at Minho's response for a moment, until a ding echoed inside his room once again, making him move the cursor and click the Outlook tab below. There were new three attachments, all dark photos. The subject line was "Pictures".

"Anyways, I sent the pictures already. Savage them for me Jisung, please?"

Oh, the "important" pictures.

_All right, this is weird... Whatever._

If Jisung tilted his screen somewhat, he could make out something a little different in each of picture. He couldn't make out what, but the fact that there _was_ contrast made him think that levelling the images could work.

_Vibration_ : another text from Minho. "Could you fix them in the order I sent them?"

It was an odd request, but he expected nothing less from Minho, so he decided to oblige. "Sure." After downloading them, he opened each one at a time in Photoshop.

"Tell me what you think each image is of so I can confirm. I need to know if they're at all distinguishable."

The first image wasn't so easy to fix. Since he wasn't sure what he was trying to find, he couldn't decide on what levelling setup to use. So, instead, he decided to grab the middle and rightmost input level pins, moving them all the way over to the left. The image lit up, highly contrasted but as clear as he was going to be able to get it. It was then that he saw the thighs. The picture seemed to be of someone's thighs on a dark-ish bed sheet or something. Jisung wasn't too sure.

"Well, I can't fix them, but... The first one is of thighs?"

"Yep!" confirmed Minho.

Despite his confusion, Jisung did the next image the same way. He raised a brow at this one, for what he saw almost looked like the exposed body of a man. There were dark patches all over the image that seemed to be on him. The contrast made the brighter edges of them red. His eyes widen at the view. All of a sudden, Jisung felt nervous, his hand absentmindedly brought to his mouth to cover.

_Stab wounds_ , he thought to himself. _Those are fucking stab wounds. That's blood. His body was full of blood._

He couldn't see the man's head in the image, but he knew in his gut that he was looking at a corpse. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. What the hell had Minho sent him?

"A man?"

"Yes, and?"

"He's... bleeding?"

"Close enough! Do the last one now," Minho ordered with a winking emote.

"What is this, Minho?"

"Do it and you'll find out!"

His breathing becoming faster and more labored, Jisung contrasted the last image. When he figured out what it was— _who_ it was—he stared at his screen in terror. It was a face, the face of the man from the prior images.

"Well?" urged Minho.

Jisung tore his eyes from his screen and looked at his phone. It took him what felt like ages to pick it up in his shaky hands. Trembling, he typed his answer. He hoped that he was wrong, that Minho would ask him what he was on about, but he knew that he wasn't, and that he _wouldn't_.

"Lino?"

Minho replied with a smiley face, then he typed next: "He really is the prettiest guy in Incheon, isn't he?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: Next chapter will be focusing on Lino's point of view.


	6. all i can taste is this moment and all i can breathe is your life (PART 2)

It was 2:17 AM when what sounded like a knock pulled Lino from his sleep.

For a long moment, not knowing what else to do, he continued to lie in bed. He stared into the darkness that drowned his bedroom with eyes he didn't realize were wide open. There was silence around him for what felt like ages.

Finally, he decided it must've been a random bump in the night. Yet, as he snuggled the side of his head into his silk pillowcase, he heard it again, from downstairs.

_Knock knock_.

Lino's eyes flew open once more. He wanted to get up, but found himself petrified. Paranoia flooded him with a bombardment of ideas that, although foolish, left him terrified. The most important idea that was running on his mind was that an intruder broke into his home and made the loud noise by accident.

If he stood up, his floorboards would creak, the second floor especially prone to this. The intruder would know he woke up and, worse yet, exactly where he was.

Though he'd thought it accidental, a few seconds later he again heard the noise.

_Knock knock_.

Now, Lino found himself growing more confused than frightened.

_What is that?_ He wondered. _It's too early for someone to be at the front door, but if an intruder made that sound, then why make it again? Shouldn't they want to stay quiet? Those knocks are loud enough to wake me up!_

So, despite his fear, he decided he had to get to the bottom of this. He picked his phone up off of the bedside table, plucking it from its charger to hold it close to himself.

An independent man and living in the house all alone, he felt fear at the thought of standing up, so he took his time when he did. Sure enough, the floor creaked.

He froze.

When nothing happened, he breathed a quiet sigh of relief and tiptoed to his open bedroom door. There he stood, peeking through the crack as he waited for the noise that he now anticipated.

_Knock_.

Whoever—or whatever—made the sound did so on purpose. To Lino, there was no other reason for it to keep repeating. He stood frozen in fear for what felt like an hour but must've only been five minutes. Then it happened again, pulling him from his horror.

_Knock knock._

The guy pressed himself against the wall, his messy, orange dyed hair crunching against it. Then, he turned on his phone.

He flinched when the bright screen flashed in his face, blinding him. As he blinked his eyes to adjust, he found himself about to speed-dial his parents. The moment he realized what his body wanted to do, though, he stopped himself.

It was his own idea to live alone. His mother told him it was a bad idea; that sooner or later he'd come crawling back to live with him again. After all, he'd always been a paranoid man, disturbed by the most innocent of bumps in the night. His hyperactive imagination, he felt, was to blame. If he called his parents and started worrying them, only to find out the noise was nothing, he'd feel like an idiot!

_Knock knock._

_I know; I'll text Jisung!_

He let his hands return to his contact list. At the top was Jisung's name; his ex-boyfriend, but still a friend. Opening their texts, he saw the last ones they'd exchanged, yesterday: "Thanks for what you said there. It meant a lot to me." "No worries, hyung."

He'd always worried that Jisung didn't care about him anymore. How could he, when he'd broken up with him, especially during their anniversary? During the Valentine's countdown, no less.

That detail brought him instant regret every time he remember it. Would Jisung ever enjoy a Valentines again? To his surprise, though, yesterday Jisung had confessed that he did _care_ —that he enjoyed being his friend. It came as such a surprise, in fact, that Lino didn't focus the instant he was on his ride home.

_Jisung's bound to be awake right now._

"Hannie, come over," he wrote.

_Wait, no. He doesn't have a car._

A few backspaces.

"Jisung, are you there?" Again, hesitation.

_Of course he's there, but he's not likely to respond... He ignores him unless he have something important to say. Is this important? He could be about to die. But what if it's nothing? He'll think I'm a scaredy-cat._

_Knock knock._

So, with a mask of faux bravado, he decided his pride as a man was a priority and deleted the text. He wasn't dead yet, and still that knocking continued. If someone wanted to harm him, he figured they would've done so already.

He waited for the noise. Right on cue, he heard it.

_Knock knock._

After turning off his phone's screen, Lino finally pulled himself off the wall. He slunk from his bedroom, being as careful as he could; the floorboards here were the loudest in the house.

_Creeeeaaaak_.

He froze again and waited for the sound.

_Knock_.

Considering that to mean that he was still in the clear, Lino let out an anxious huff.

The stairs, long and dark, were terrifying to him. Even so, he made his way down them one at a time. He walked sideways, distributing his weight more on the middle of each step than on either end. If his prior experience with the stairs gave him any hope, it was that doing so would prevent them from creaking so much.

It didn't take him long to make it down to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, he held his phone close with clutching hands and waited for the sound to guide him.

_Knock knock knock_.

Lino felt his blood run cold. The sound was coming from the basement. Quivering like a dying leaf, he approached the top of the descending stairs.

Something he liked about this floor was how, at night, moonlight poured in from various windows. It basked the living room and dining area in a celestial blue glow. Juxtaposing this serenity, though, the basement was never anything but pitch black.

Lino's heart pounded in his throat.

_Oh, why does it have to be coming from the basement, of all places? Why not the kitchen? Why not from under the living room couch?_

_Knock knock_.

There it came again to haunt him, like a bad dream. Though every fiber of his being told him to run away, he turned on his phone's flashlight. With a level of hesitance unknown to him until that moment, he panned it down to look into the dark abyss.

When he moved in, Lino filled the spacious basement with a maze of boxes. Even now, they were still packed. As such, though he could now see the stairs, he could see little else.

He waited again for the knock... but there was only silence.

Though mortified, Lino's curiosity got the better of him. He felt numb, as if his conscience cowered in terror. Regardless, he began his slow action of moving downward into the dark basement.

As he plodded down the stairs, his heart pounded like he was running a marathon. If he didn't know any better, he might've worried he'd die of sheer fright.

In the darkness, his flashlight did little. In front of him were towers of cardboard boxes. As much as he wanted to pan the light, he couldn't; his statue-esque body wouldn't let him. Instead, for a long moment, he stood rigid in front of the staircase.

He half-expected to hear the knock again, to then rush inside of the basement punching whoever who was inside out in terror. So, when no such cue arose, he didn't know what to do. Pure, undiluted panic pumped through his veins, but somehow, it elicited only paralysis.

But, despite the crippling tension, he knew what he had to do. He couldn't stay still forever. So, moving so slowly he worried _he_ may creak, he twisted the light down and to the left.

Then, he saw it: a hollow wooden box sitting on the floor near some of the others. That particular box, however small, once held photographs. While he did recall leaving it down here, emptied, he couldn't recall whether he left it on the floor like this.

All of a sudden, from behind a stack of boxes came a thick ball of artificial yarn, one he'd bought for his cats.

Lino's pretty eyes locked on the ball as it rolled at a steady rate. He watched it closely, as if it might do something unexpected if he didn't.

A few long seconds later, it finally came to a stop, bouncing against the wooden box.

_Knock knock_.

As the ball rolled back into the darkness, Lino felt a cocktail of emotions wash over him: relief, glee, and last but not least... disappointment at his own fright. He loosened up and let out a titter to himself.

_Of course! God, how could I forget about Dori? Doongie and Soonie have slept already on their own room, but not Dori yet. I've got half a mind to kill my lovely cat, but, oh, I'_ _m so relieved!_

When the ball rolled out once more, the man crouched and picked it up. "Ahh, bad, Dori," he scolded with a laugh. "You scared me half to death!"

With that dealt with, Lino stood and took a deep breath to calm himself. There would be no more knocking. So, pretending he hadn't spent so long sneaking around in pure terror, he returned upstairs.

Clouds had covered the moon, but still a faint blue glow drenched him. Somehow, the touch of natural lighting helped to steady his still-erratic heartbeat. With an easy exhale, he tilted his head back to let the gentle caresses of the moon fall onto his tensed neck. One of the basement stairs emitted a low cracking sound, but its softness assured Lino that his cat caused it. After all, brittle wooden stairs plus overweight feline equaled creepy noises in the night. He took a look with Doongie and Soonie inside the guest room, and there, they were sleeping peacefully. _Yeah, it must be Dori_ _then._

_I bet half those sounds were from the stairs. If I asked the landlord, I wonder if he'd get them replaced for me._

Lino looked back at the dark doorway to the basement. Dori didn't come out, but he didn't find that odd; if it wanted to, it would join his at its own pace.

Almost against his own will, Lino raised his arms and stretched, groaning as he did. Then, he yawned. Only then did it dawn on his what time it was. For confirmation, he checked his phone again: 2:22 AM now.

_Man, I must be a light sleeper or something. I'm beat..._

Keeping his eyes half shut, he relied on muscle memory to guide his back upstairs. This time, the stairs creaked, but he paid no mind. His only concern was whether he'd be able to fall back to sleep. Considering his exhaustion, though, he felt certain he didn't have to worry about that.

Once back in his bedroom, Lino helped the door drift shut. He didn't close it, knowing that Dori may decide to join him later. Through another yawn, he crouched and picked up his phone's charging cord.

After standing up on the bed and stretching, his other cat stepped closer and meowed. With a tender, relaxed smile on his face, he gave it a pat on the head. It took a few seconds for his heart to sink, his smile shifting into a frown as he realized that something wasn't right.

_Wait. I... I thought Dori was still inside the basement._

Terror returning in thick waves, he grabbed the cat's chin and turned its face up. The shape of its eyes and the black and white color of its fur told him enough.

_It's Dori. It was here._

When he felt his left arm starting to tremble, he knew the rest of his body would join in soon. Desperate, he tried to calm himself.

_No, no. Maybe... Dori must've slunk by me. I didn't notice him, that's all! That's—_

What cut his excuses short was the most terrifying sound he'd ever heard.

_Creeeeaaaak_.

His eyes shot wide open. He recognized the noise as the floorboards outside his bedroom door. All at once, his heart resumed pounding against his ribs like a jackhammer. As slow as he could, he turned his head to look at the door. After a long beat of inner hysteria, he heard it, against the door.

_Knock_.

Lino was about to run and lock the door, the door itself opened, and there, he faced to faced with someone who is _exactly_ look-a-like with him, his arms carrying a blank canvas with a devilish smile planting on his face.

"It's good to finally see you on personal, my doppelganger."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> #Changbin #BestRapperEver #StraykidsWin
> 
> Just gonna leave these here. ♡


	7. every breath you take, i'll be watching you.

* * *

In his head, Jisung was screaming. He couldn't believe what was going on. It had to be a lie. He closed his conversation with Minho, going instead to Lino's. He still hadn't read his messages. But that didn't mean he was dead. He wasn't. He couldn't be. He _couldn't_ be.

"Lino!" he sent. "Please answer me! Are you all right? Tell me that you're alright please."

"Don't bother." Minho texted him instantly. "I left his phone at his house."

Jisung paid the painter no mind. He tried to call Lino. It rung once, then twice. Each ring following had made Jisung more and more anxious.

"Pick up," he begged under his breath. "Oh, God, _please_ pick up..."

"Hey there, this is your cutie boy Lino! I'm not taking calls right now, so leave me a message!" Lino's voice, which used to bother him, now sounded like a choir of angels. Unfortunately, this was only his voicemail. He ended the call rather than leave a message, though as soon as he did he went into a full-scale panic.

_He's dead, isn't he? The pictures from Minho are true. This isn't some sort of sick joke. He's gone... Did Minho kill him?_

That was what threw him for a real loop: Minho's involvement. Not only did he have pictures, but he seemed calm... if not _pleased_. Minho was the nicest, most generous man that he'd ever met, but now he'd killed a man. What's worst was that the one he killed was the person that he only had from the very start.

His phone started to ring. It was Minho. In a stunned silence, he accepted the call with his jaw clenching and brought the phone back up to his ear.

"You aren't taking this as well as I expected," complained Minho.

Jisung's brows raised stupidly at the heartless words. "You thought I'd take this _well_? Are you crazy?"

"He wasn't a nice person."

"What are you saying, Minho? How the hell would you know? He was a nice person! I just... I can't believe you'd do this... I can't believe _anyone_ would do _this_!" As he shouted, he got to his feet, pacing around behind his chair and palming at his hair, clutching it up. 

"Well, at least you got to have a heart-to-heart talk with him the last time you saw him."

That made Jisung stop pacing. It took Jisung a moment to realize what was wrong with that comment. "How... How do you...?"

"I'm glad you take your phone everywhere with you. Those were some sweet things you said to him, Jisung. How much of it was true?"

The introvert's mind stunned in a bad way, horror intensifying even more. Somehow, Minho had been watching him. "How did you get into my phone?"

"Check your e-mail."

"How the _hell_ did you get into my phone?!"

"I said check. Your. E-mail."

Jisung started to pull the phone away from his ear, his terror eyes looking at the awe.

"Now. On your laptop. Sit down and look."

With reluctance, he sat back down in his rolling gaming chair. He checked his e-mail in a haze of terror. Sure enough, there was a new message from Minho's Outlook address. It had no subject and no body, but several attachments. All but one of them were pictures. In his anxiety, he couldn't bear to figure out what they were from their thumbnails alone.

"Click the first one. Skim through."

Jisung obeyed. The first image opened. To his surprise, he found that it was a photo of him. He was sitting, face lit up by the screen, in front of his laptop. When he changed to the next one, it was the same, but now he was staring at the screen with one hand holding a bond paper. Over and over, multiple images, some even of only his chair. It soon cycled over back to the first one. Jisung then looked at his webcam with wide eyes.

_The light. Minho's using my webcam._

"Oh, don't look so surprised," Minho laughed, confirming that he was watching Jisung even now. "I mean, you're the one who neglected to update Adobe Reader." Seeing the confusion that followed on his face, he explained, "Security issues. I embedded a way to link your computer to mine. I can do whatever I like, see?"

Jisung watched as his cursor moved on its own. It closed the attachment gallery, then scrolled the window down. The last attachment was a video. His cursor hovered over it for a moment before downloading it to the desktop. Then, the cursor moved to the download bar when it finished, to click and open it.

"This is my favorite of everything I caught. I didn't think the exploit for phones would work, but I guess you really hate software updates."

He felt himself break into a cold sweat. When the video opened in his preferred media player, his cursor maximized the window. The introvert stared at the screen—at what Minho had caught him doing. He wasn't sure what he felt. Was it embarrassment? Humiliation? Fear? All of them?

"You struck me as a modest, decent guy, but here I found you a few nights ago, pleasuring yourself. It was a real shock, but not unwelcome, I guess. What made it even better, though, was when I checked what you were _watching_ at."

Jisung knew his face was flushing in humiliation, lips quivering. Minho had seen everything. His texts were so well-timed because he _did_ know what Jisung was doing at any given moment.

"You found me that attractive? That touched me. So I asked to meet you. You said okay. And by the time I figure out your address, you go and change your mind. I went to all that trouble, but you still weren't sure if my intention was true. So, to prove myself to you, I did you a favor and got your ex-boyfriend out of the way."

The artist was speechless from fright. He couldn't stop staring at his laptop, though he no longer paid attention to the video playing on an endless loop.

"You do know why I got him out of the picture, right?"

He didn't answer.

"Nah, it's better if you don't know."

"No, tell me," Jisung breathed. He wanted to know what reason Minho had for taking away his only other friend, though he knew he'd regret asking.

"Did you ever go all the way with him?"

"What?"

"I went through his phone. Man, he sure had a lot of texts with another guy. I looked back to around the time you two were dating. He was so sexually frustrated that he wound up starting an affair. After he broke up with you, he immediately hooked up with this other lover of his, the skank."

Those words hurt Jisung to hear, but didn't surprise him; he'd always suspected Lino had had an affair. Besides, from the standpoint of a man no longer dating him, he shouldn't care about that anymore.

In an instant, he felt his tears coming from his tired eyes.

"He didn't deserve to _die_ for it!" he cried out loud, "He wanted sex, he wanted everything and I wasn't able to give all of that to him! _Of course_ he should go to someone else! Was that so wrong that he needed to _die_?"

"Who _do_ you want to give all of that to, Jisung? Me?"

Humiliated and anything but amused, Jisung roared, "Answer the bloody question, you sick son of a bitch!"

"Might want to keep your voice down. Jeongin might hear you down there."

Jisung snapped his mouth shut. Somehow, Minho not only knew about Jeongin, but also that the young man lived right below him.

"You shouldn't keep location tracking on. Your phone's quite accurate at that. So, yes, I know where you live. And yes, I asked the young man at the convenience store about you earlier today. He told me that you were his upstairs neighbor. Apartment 149 is yours, right?"

"I'll call the cops," Jisung taunted.

"Don't make me frame you for your ex's murder, Jisung. You have no idea how easy that'd be for me."

"The pictures... You sent me those pictures. They're on your computer. I have proof!"

"Who do you think the police are more inclined to listen to? If I pay them enough money, I can get them to imprison even a complete stranger. Besides, you're wrong: the pictures aren't on my computer. They never were."

"But, you-"

"Took them on Lino's phone and sent them to a temporary e-mail, then deleted them from his phone. Transferred them to a backup hard drive and sent them, through a VPN, on a new e-mail. Then, I destroyed the hard drive. I don't have anything."

"Well, th-the texts. This call!"

"Come off it, Jisung. I know you won't report anything to the police."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"I've been studying you, your behavior. No, calling the cops would be too out of character for you, Jisung. You're afraid they won't believe you—that calling them will only get _you_ into trouble."

Jisung tried to think of a comeback, but had nothing. He didn't want to admit it, but Minho was bang on. He just hit him right.

"I'm going to visit you tomorrow. If you leave your apartment before I arrive, believe me, I'll know."

_Silence_. Jisung didn't know what to do anymore.

"Plus, I have a huge surprise to you. So, I'll see you then."

It wasn't until he heard at least a whole minute of dial tone that he finally pulled his phone away. He had to leave. But how could he? He had nowhere to go. If he called his parents, texted or even e-mailed them, who knew what Minho would do to him—to them. He started thinking, in a frantic haze, of ways to get out of this.

_I could turn off my phone and take off running. But no, that wouldn't work: I reckon Minho would check-in via text. If I don't reply, he'd know that I left. How about turning off location tracking and making a break for it? No, Minho can see through phone's cameras. What if I disconnect my phone from Wi-Fi and mobile data? Then he'd notice that he can't access the cameras anymore._

Jisung glared at his webcam lens. Minho could still see him. He wasn't sure if he wanted to cover the camera with something or not. If he did, it could cost him valuable time to think of a way out of this horrible situation.

_But what if there_ _isn't a way out?_

Needless to say, he didn't sleep that night. He spent most of the night time hours pacing the floor of his bedroom. The more he thought and the more fatigued he became, the more ridiculous and elaborate his plans.

_Use Telegram to send texts from my laptop. Get a program to loop footage of me in front of the computer, like in those of the sci-tech movies_ _. Leave the phone behind, run with the laptop._

Then, he remembered that his laptop wouldn't be able to send or receive texts without Wi-Fi, which he wouldn't have. If he was late to reply to even a single message because he didn't have Wi-Fi, it would blow his cover.

_Shit!_

By eight in the morning, he wondered if he should accept his fate. There was a part of him that screamed to come up with a plan, but he'd tried. Every plan he thought up had a fatal flaw. Minho was thorough, that much he knew. He still couldn't believe how the man who'd seemed so innocent was actually a murderer. Minho was almost the polar opposite of what he'd appeared to be.

_How could I have been so blind? There must've been signs. There had to have been!_

Determined to find what he'd missed, now focusing only on this, Jisung skimmed over his texts with Minho. He took in every word, thinking about every tone, every way he could take them. Then, he got to the top—to the first two messages they'd exchanged.

"Hello? It's Jisung."

"Got ya!"

He'd thought it was weird, but had decided to dismiss it. But now, sitting in his dark bedroom with both windows covered, staring down at the glowing screen, Jisung reconsidered. Those two words alone should've set off alarm bells in his head. Why hadn't they? With anyone else, he would've panicked.

_By that point, it was already too late, though, wasn't it?_

The more Jisung thought about it, the more he realized his fate was likely sealed the moment Omegle matched them. It was by random, of course, but just Jisung's luck to get paired with a rich, hacking-master serial killer. It was bad luck... or was it? He shook his head.

_There's no way that Minho could've connected to me on purpose. Why would he? Could he even do that? I doubt even he could hijack an entire website. How would he have even known that I'd be on at that particular moment? No, the only thing that led to this was the random algorithm giving me the shaft._

By eleven, Jisung had an idea. He couldn't use technology to contact anybody, but he still had a downstairs neighbor. If he could only get a message to Jeongin, then he could get some help! His parents were there, maybe? Maybe they could help him with this problem of his.

He'd been staring at his phone most of the day thus far. As he predicted, if he was away from it for too long, Minho would start sending texts. But there was no way he could watch him all day right? He had to move away from his computer, or whatever he used to monitor him, at some point. All Jisung had to do was take a risk. If he could guess Minho's pattern, he could get out of his apartment, run downstairs to Jeongin, and return to his apartment without Minho knowing a thing.

The only problem were the microphones. He could unplug his computer's, sure, but he couldn't disable his phone's.

_How would he know_ , he tried to convince himself, _that it wasn't one of the doors inside the apartment? If I open the door and don't close it until I get back, then how could Minho tell them apart?_

He set his phone down on his pillow in an attempt to stifle the noise, then left the bedroom. If he was going to do this, he had to move fast. Minho would check-in soon. Quick, but with caution, he pulled open his apartment's door. He pushed it shut but didn't close it, then speed-walked down the hall. Once in the staircase, he considered himself free to run. Holding onto the railing, the introvert ran only a few steps down before he stopped.

By his estimate, Minho had texted him by now. Did he keep running for Jeongin, or did he hurry back and confirm that he was still in the apartment?

Jisung suddenly considered the option of getting an auto-replier. If Minho texted him twice and got the same reply, though...

_Shit, he can see what I do on the phone, anyway._

The black-haired guy snapped out of it. He was so tired, thus unsure of how long it'd taken him to think about that. His mind then reminded him of something that made his entire escape attempt seem stupid.

_Jeongin is at the convenience store right now._

Off Jisung went, sprinting on light feet back to his apartment. He was about to hurry back inside when a small detail on the doorframe caught his eye. Not that he'd ever done a thorough inspection of it, but something looked... off. Curious, he looked up to the topmost door hinge.

As it was rather conspicuous, Jisung was quick to notice the little black device taped crudely to the frame. When he squinted to see it better, he was even quicker to identify it.

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me._

Minho knew his apartment number. He was also rich. It hadn't even occurred to Jisung that he might consider setting up a _wireless microphone_ somewhere.

No longer bothering to be quiet, Jisung pushed the door open aggressively with his foot and leaned against the frame. Then, he rubbed his forehead. Though he wasn't sure why, he found himself smiling. He shook his head, then started to chuckle. Laughter bubbled up from his chest, a climax of stress and fear. He had to release it, in case it suffocate him from the inside.

"Well played, Minho," he hissed through a miserable cackle for the microphone to pick up. "Well _fucking_ played!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers! Thanks for patiently waiting for this chapter. 
> 
> I'll update the next chapter this Wednesday!! We will going to get that early update for minsung's meeting y'all!!!


	8. you don't know it yet but baby i've already got your heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smut smut smut

When Jisung had finished his mental breakdown in the hallway, he returned to his bedroom and picked up his phone.

"Leaving so soon, then?" Minho had asked like he was taunting him.

"Changed my mind," Jisung confessed, his eyes and voice tired from the breakdown. "I had a plan, but halfway through I realized it wouldn't work."

"I hear you found the microphone. Do you like it?"

"It's clever, but no, not particularly."

"You don't seem pleased."

Jisung, tired black eyes half shut, smirking at the phone's camera at the mocking manner. "Did I seem pleased before?"

"I suppose not."

Jisung sighed and lowered his hand to let go of his phone. He left the bedroom, then opened the kitchen cupboard. If he was going to resign to his fate, he may as well make himself something to eat for the _last_ time, if it only was. He filled the pot with water before setting it on the stove. Then he poured himself a cup of water. While he waited for the water to boil, he sat down on the couch. The cheap television in front of him was off, but he didn't feel like turning it on, so he left it. With one hand holding his cup and the other on his head, Jisung groaned.

He was accepting his fate because he felt exhausted to all of his other options. Plus, his system was overcome with exhaustion. He took a sip of his water. Whatever was going to happen to him in a few hours was going to happen no matter what.

A few minutes later, he got up to pour macaroni into the pot. When he reached into his drawer for something to stir with, he stopped. His eyes had fallen onto his knife. He only had one; it was rather oversized, since he had a thing for huge knives. Something about them attracted him.

_Maybe I'm not as doomed yet as I think I am..._

Jisung shook his head and tore his eyes away from the glistening blade. He couldn't believe what he was thinking; there was no way he could stab someone. Besides, he was too skinny, the knife was too big. He pictured it in his head: pulling the knife on Minho. He watched himself get pinned to the wall, then Minho ripped the knife from his hand and slit his throat with it.

He shook his head in an instant.

No, that wouldn't work. It was too undisguised. He would easily know what he'll gonna do, too _predictable._

_Then again, there may had another object for self defense and attack, it doesn't have to be a knife._

Jisung then remembered the object he used for cutting his long hair. He went straight to the comfort room, opened another drawer and picked up a pair of scissors. With delicate swipes, he tested the edges and points of its blades. He pictured this: luring Minho in with a false sense of security, making him feel welcome. Then, when he turns his back—scissors to the throat. It worked out a lot better. Even if Minho fought back, the odds of delivering a fatal blow were in Jisung's favor. All he needed was to put some weight behind his attack. He clutched the scissors close to his chest as his eyes stared off at nothing.

_Stabbing him might make me no different, but it's my only hope._

After he finished picking at his food, he sat down on the couch and stared up at the ceiling. He sat like that, trying not to fall asleep, until it got dark outside. Minho didn't seem interested in sending texts anymore. He'd stopped an hour or two ago. Jisung could only assume this meant he was on his way. He had the scissors hidden in his pocket, but now he'd spent at least thirty-four hours awake. Would he even have the strength to stab Minho?

_He sure makes a point of showing up late_ , Jisung thought. It was nine o'clock at night. He continued his thought: _That was part of his plan, I think. He knows I'm exhausted now. He doesn't think I'll be able to fight._

Fucking shit. 

An hour later, Jisung was about to give up waiting. By then, he thought that it'd only been a prank, a fucking reminder that he'll go in here but the truth was just he's only playing with him. Right as he stood up to head back into the bedroom, though, he heard it.

_Footsteps... Footsteps in the hallway._

Jisung glanced at the door with his eyes wide. _He's coming he's coming he's coming._

The footsteps stopped on the other side of his door. He stayed where he was, frozen in place like a marble statue. A few long seconds of silence came and went. Then, on the door...

_Knock knock_.

Jisung shuddered, became nervous all of a sudden. He'd been preparing himself for this all day, but realizing that Minho was actually here now terrified him, making the blood on his system go cold. The last thing he wanted to do was open the door and let this madman into his apartment. There it came again to haunt him, like a bad dream.

_Knock knock_.

Though every fiber of his being told him to run away, Jisung slowly found himself stepping closer to the door. With a level of hesitance unknown to him until that moment, he reached for the lock. After a slow twist and consequential click, he pulled it open.

As expected, Minho was standing there. He had to be at least 5'6 feet tall, which was about what Jisung had guessed his height to be since his figure was same as Lino's. But what he hadn't expected though was the _actual_ look of his face.

Jisung's eyes widen in pure shockness and confusion. He looked just as the same as his ex-boyfriend, doing the same handsome smile when his eyes fell onto the introvert artist.

_Lino?!! Is this guy's Lino? Lino is alive?_

"Surprise, Jisung," he greeted with a confident, hand gestures. _God, his voice was almost the same with Lino's in personal. Why hadn't he notice that at their previous calls?_ His thoughts were stopped right there in an instant when the painter continued to speak. "Are you happy to see your ex-boyfriend's doppelganger?"

_What? Doppelganger?_

_What the actual fuck is happening here?_

There was _no_ way he could actually met Lino's doppelganger. No no _no_. This was not happening. This couldn't happen! 

_What the hell?_

The guy in front of him ignored Jisung's confused and stunned look as he now looked over Jisung's head, inspecting his apartment from the doorway while speaking. "Mm, you must be confuse right at the moment. But it's better if we'll going to clear things inside, right?" Then he looked back down at him, his fingers pointing inside his apartment. "So, can I come in?"

Yeah, he was right. He was not Lino. He knew what's Lino's habit whenever he go in here. Lino was a soft, genuine person. This guy _wasn't_.

But still, he couldn't believe that this was actually happening. He must be dreaming, right?

_Is he wearing a mask or something? If he wanted to hide his identity, why does he need to do this shit?_

_Or maybe he's was actually Lino, maybe he was just pranking me, right?_

But then again, his thoughts brought him to the moment wherein Minho showed the evidence of Lino being murdered by him. 

It was all he had not to crumple to the floor a scared, shaking mess. Jisung didn't answer the guy's request to enter. He couldn't even bring himself to meet Minho's gaze anymore. After a few seconds more, he finally managed a meek nod and took two cautious steps back.

"Thanks," Minho crooned. He stepped inside after Jisung, closing the door and locking it behind himself. He took his black cap off and brushed his hair upwards as he took a better look at the apartment, as if trying to make sure that this was indeed where he'd seen Jisung last time. Meanwhile, the artist tried to force himself to look at him. He was wearing a thin, dark black short jacket with a plain white t-shirt in it. As Jisung had inspected, he has indeed similar features with Lino, as in _exactly_ similar. His body figure too. In Lino's case, he could easily overpower him. But with Minho, of course if he really do wanted to, it would be easy for him to overpower him too. His eyes were making their way up to examine Minho's face and black colored hair (which is different to Lino's favorite orange-dyed hair) when the near-stranger cocked his head to look at him. This caused Jisung to whip his gaze to the floor.

"Nice place you've got here," observed Minho.

Jisung let out a quiet grunt of acknowledgement. His heart was in his throat; speaking was beyond his ability.

"I could get you better, though."

This comment confused him, but he still kept his mouth shut. Minho just stared at him intently like he was watching him from head to toe, until he decided to step closer, effectively trapping him with his back against a wall. In a gentle tone, he snickered and pointed out, "You're trembling. Scared, right?" When he got no response, he brought his hand up and took hold of Jisung's chin. He pulled the introvert's face up to look at it, using his other hand to brush a strand of hair out of the way.

Jisung tried to make his eyes display only disdain, but despite his fear and hatred, the close proximity was making him flustered. Part of him wanted to slump against Minho's chest and go to sleep. He had to remind himself that doing so would be suicide.

Satisfied somehow, Minho grinned and patted Jisung's cheek. Then he pulled away and turned his back. He took his time in walking arrogantly over to the windows, were covered by thinner curtains than the ones in the bedroom. It was as if he was taunting Jisung—daring him to try something. Jisung felt for the scissors in the left pocket of his hoodie. They were there. But before grabbing the handle, he reconsidered.

_Oh, who am I kidding? I can't stab him! All he needs to do is turn around and grab my wrist to stop me. Even if he wasn't stronger than me, I can't bring myself to do something like that to someone. Not even someone like him, not even to avenge Lino..._

So, instead, he looked back at the door. If he was quick enough, he could make a break for it. Anxious, he glanced back at Minho. He was still examining the curtains... or whatever he was doing. If he was going to try escaping, now was the time.

Jisung inched closer to the door, keeping his eyes on Minho as he did. When he reached the doorknob, he tried to unlock it again quietly, but, of course, it clicked. He watched Minho tense at the sound. For a beat, both of them were still. The instant he saw the painter start to turn, he ripped the door open and sprinted out.

"Jisung!"

He ran as fast as he could, barreling into the stairwell so hard that he almost threw himself over the guardrail. It took him only a second to correct his trajectory, but a second was all Minho needed, dashing in behind him. Jisung had to focus so he wouldn't slip. Before he could turn on the first landing, Minho leapt down like an animal and slammed into him, pinning him to the wall. He let out a frightened shout and tried to struggle, but hitting at Minho only hurt his hands.

"What's the matter with you?" scolded the painter, who brought his hands up to cup Jisung's jaw firmly. He was too close, close enough for Jisung to feel the breath and heat of each word from his lips. "I only want to talk! I didn't come all this way to hurt you, all right?" Getting closer by pressing their foreheads together, he stressed, "I'd _never_ hurt you."

Jisung still had his mouth ajar somewhat, breathing hard. He'd exerted the last of his limited energy doing a full sprint. Even Minho appeared a bit winded. As such, their hot breaths were mingling together in the space between them. For a long moment, neither of them said a word. The only sound that filled the stairwell was their panting. Jisung, though, was the first to close his mouth when he noticed the palpable sexual tension.

_Christ, how the hell could I be thinking about that at a time like this? He killed Lino! And regardless of whatever bullshit he says, he's here to kill me, too!_

"Come on," instructed Minho. "Let's go back to your apartment, shall we?" He moved back, but took Jisung's hand in his. He then started pulling the young man back to the apartment they'd run from. Jisung wanted to fight, but his body didn't want to obey. He knew it'd be in vain, anyway; Minho would only catch him again.

Soon enough, they were back in Jisung's apartment. Minho took off his jacket and held it.

"Where can I set this?"

"Uhh..." Jisung pointed at the couch, managing to speak in a tiny voice. "There."

"Ah, so you _can_ talk," Minho quipped as he tossed his coat down beside Jisung's. He sat down on the couch and sighed in comfort. After a moment, though, he noticed how Jisung loomed beside the door to the bedroom, tense and looking at the floor.

"What are you so afraid of?" he asked him.

"You killed Lino," Jisung stammered.

"Your point?"

The artist glared at his guest, his fist balling. "Let's just say it's not every day that I have a murderer in my living room."

The painter raised his eyebrows. "Fair enough. But I told you why I did it. _And_ that I wouldn't hurt you."

"Why? Why any of this?"

Minho extended his arms over the backing of the couch to lounge comfortably. "I guess I'll be completely honest, then."

"I'd _appreciate_ that."

The rich man sniffed and rubbed his nose. "I kill for sport," he confessed. It wasn't the admission itself that surprised Jisung. Rather, it was the casual tone, as if Minho was admitting to sucking his thumb or picking his nose. He continued, "So when I found you on Omegle, I thought, 'Wow, what a loser. This guy's easy pickings.' But... something happened."

Jisung narrowed his eyes as the man pointed at him.

"I got to know you—tried to read you like a case study. It's been a long time since anyone's intrigued me that much. All of a sudden, I realized that I didn't want to kill you." He shook his head. "No, Jisung, you're one of a kind. Rather than kill you, part of me wanted instead to nurture you. We have so much in common, you and I. So much in common, but what differences we do have seem to complement each other. And when I first saw a picture of you, after looking you up online..." He let out a dirty bite on his lower lip and smirked.

"So, what?" Jisung questioned with sarcasm, as he folded his arms over his chest. "You had a change of heart and decided to kill my ex-boyfriend instead?" 

"Yeah, that sounds about right. I mean, I went to all the trouble of setting everything up, so I had to kill somebody. Figured it might as well be that bitch."

"He wasn't a bitch."

"You were getting too close to him, anyway," Minho added in a dismissive tone. "He was luring you back into his trap, because God knows one man couldn't be enough for him."

Jisung bared his teeth. The longer Minho spoke, the more agreeable the idea of stabbing him in the throat became.

"Plus, he's making my image dirty. Can't you see? We're exactly look a like. Well that's because he's my doppelganger. You made us meet together, hun. What a fucking coincidence. Seems was like destiny brought us all together, wasn't it?"

_That makes sense._ Jisung thought. He never expect something like this would happen in his life. This is so crazy, this is _traumatic_.

Taking note of Jisung's offense, Minho pursed his lips and changed the subject. "You look tired. Get some rest."

Jisung didn't move, though he allowed his lips to fall back into a closed frown.

"I figure I'll stay the night. Came a long way for this, after all. We'll talk more once you've rested."

Jisung stared, but so did Minho. The introvert couldn't help but think about cats: how they expressed dominance by staring until one looked away. Which of them was the dominant one? He could only assume it was Minho.

"Well? Go on, then. Unless you'd like to talk some more now."

Reluctantly, Jisung turned his back on Minho and made his way into the bedroom. He closed the door behind himself and wished that it had a lock. As he stood with his back against it, he again began to panic.

_He's going to wait until I'm asleep, then he's going to come in here and kill me. I can't let my guard down._

Jisung laid in bed for an hour, facing the wall and staring at the darkness in front of him. In his left hand he clutched the scissors. Despite his exhaustion, he knew sleep would be the death of him. So his eyes fought to stay open, but with each minute that passed, it became harder to reopen them after a blink.

The bedroom door moved with a soft creak. He froze. Nothing happened for what felt like an eternity, but then Minho approached and stood beside the bed. Jisung prayed he wouldn't notice that he was still awake and holding a weapon. A minute later and Minho lifted the sheets, got into bed beside him. He could tell that he was staring at the back of his head. He held his scissors tighter.

He hadn't heard anything before Minho entered. Did that mean he was unarmed?

_No_ , Jisung realized, _only that he must've brought his own weapon._

Neither of them did anything for at least two minutes. Jisung no longer knew _what_ to do. He heard cloth moving—the sound of Minho's hand moving closer—and _didn't know what to do_. He expected pain to follow, but instead, a palm rested itself upon his hip.

"Jisung," the name was a quiet husk, a whisper past Minho's lips. Jisung's heart raced as the man started to turn him over.

It was now or never.

Jisung whipped himself around, scissors raised. Before he could bring them down to him, though, Minho clamped his hand around his wrist. Next thing he knew, their lips were pressed together. He was so stunned that he didn't react all at once. His grip on the scissors loosened, but he still held them with a half-hearted effort. Minho's other hand found his cheek but soon moved, making its way past his neck to hold the back of his head. Then, he kissed Jisung _deeper_.

Though he wanted to fight, he was too tired. Besides, he realized, his body wanted this. Oh, _God_ , did it want this. So he relaxed a little bit, soon finding himself letting go of the scissors. They fell to the floor between the bed and the wall, but he didn't care. He started to kiss Minho back and allowed the man to pull their bodies closer together.

The painter's tongue caressed the corners of Jisung's mouth between kisses. It was wet and warm, yet enjoyable somehow. As he sucked on Jisung's lips, he offered the inside of his own. Kisses turned into nibbles. They couldn't have been doing this for more than a minute, but Jisung could already feel more than his face flushing.

_No... Stop... I'm not into this. I can't be! He's a murderer, he killed Lino!_

Despite his thoughts, when Minho gave his lower lip a sensual, slow lick, his mouth flew open on its own. As their tongues wrestled, his hands wrapped around his toned torso, trying to pull him closer still.

_What am I doing? I can't control myself....! What is he doing to me?_

After nipping his lip, Minho was suddenly on top, straddling him. His lips glided down Jisung's face to the underside of his chin. There, he continued with firm, sucking kisses. He made love to the artist's Adam's apple with his mouth. Audible gasps escaped Jisung's mouth despite how hard he tried to contain them. His fingers dug into the back of Minho's white t-shirt, bunching it in his hands in ecstasy.

"Stop," he hushed, but there was no force behind it. "Minho, no... _Aah_."

The painter moved back up, to Jisung's ear now. He breathed his hot breath against the ridges of it, tantalizing and teasing with warmth. Chest to chest, he could feel his heartbeat, fast but steady. Jisung writhed under him, bending one of his knees. Minho's hand reached down upon feeling this and wrapped his hand around the joint. He pulled on it, forcing Jisung to lift his leg; their pelvises slid closer to each other. The sensation of that alone earned a small moan from Jisung.

"Say my name again," whispered Minho.

_Don't do it. Don't encourage him._

"Minho," Jisung exhaled with his eyes closed tight, body disobeying mind.

_Shit, I can't help it! He has the same looks with Lino but why does I sees him as Minho himself? Why is he so bloody irresistible to me?_

As if Jisung's voice awoke some animalistic part of him, Minho grew rougher. He released his leg and took hold of both of his wrists, moving them up. Once he had Jisung's hands pinned together above his head, arms held raised, he resumed making out with him. The introvert arched his back off of the bed to press his chest closer to Minho's.

While the scene he found himself trapped in appalled most of him, he had to admit: part of him felt more alive than ever. There was something invigorating about being held down and assaulted this way. He wanted Minho to go further. He wanted things to get _rougher_. He wanted more. In that moment, he was blind to the misdeeds that had brought him such fear only minutes ago.

_Oh, fuck it! This is happening now, whether I like it or not!_

Letting himself forget his inhibitions, he started matching the intensity of Minho's kisses. The painter must've noticed this, as he felt his lips curl into a smile. His hands ran down the undersides of Jisung's arms before floating to his chest. The artist wrapped his arms around him again, giving the hair at the back of his head a gentle tug.

Minho took his time unbuttoning Jisung's silky short-sleeved shirt. His firm hands caressed his chest through the light fabric of his upper cloth before it gets gone out of his sight. In his head, Jisung wanted to kick himself for the erotic gasp he made when his fingers slid across one of his nipples. It earned a smirk from Minho, whose hands slithered down and under the shirt. Up they went, the coldness of his fingertips causing Jisung to squirm. He pushed the shirt off of the artist, removing it before letting them drop to the floor. Then, stretching himself as he did, he removed his own t-shirt, revealing the hot build of his athletic chest. Jisung stared at it, taking in every crease and curve of it with hunger in his eyes.

_I want you. I want you. I want you._

The only light was coming from the kitchen, through the crack of the door that had almost drifted shut. With it, Jisung could barely make out Minho undoing his belt. He glanced lower, below the buckle, until finally noticing the ridge there. Staring at it in anticipation, he felt a shiver run down his spine.

_Don't_ , he wanted to say. _Lino wouldn't like this, I don't want this._ But he already knew: _if I said that, I'd be lying._

When Minho pulled out his erection, he allowed Jisung to gaze at it for a moment. The introvert had never thought the sight of another man's cock could so be damn arousing. Then again, his head was swimming with both exhaustion and ravenous lust. Likely a bad combination when trying to judge his rational thinking, he reasoned.

"Like what you see?" joked the painter in a syrupy voice. All Jisung could do was stammer dumbly; this got him a low chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes."

As Minho started to kiss him again, he could feel him undoing the button and zipper of his jeans. In what was almost a spasm, he dug his fingernails into his back and kissed eagerly at his clavicle. As if rewarding him for this, the older guy rubbed him through his jeans. To Jisung's surprise, he found it to be a much different sensation from when he touched himself. Much pleasanter, in comparison. Instead of the feeling bringing him shame, it brought him great enjoyment.

Before they knew it, both of them were completely naked, kicking their pants off of the bed and the covers with them.

"You're a virgin, right?" Minho asked him.

Jisung nodded, seeing no reason to lie. "Yeah," he panted.

"I'll be gentle to start, then."

When Minho started to stroke him, fingers firm around his arousal, Jisung lurched into him with a gasp. He was surprised by how sensitive he was; the smallest touch from Minho sent waves of bliss rippling through his body.

"How's that?"

Speaking no longer possible for him, Jisung only nodded, rubbing his chin against Minho's neck as he did. He found himself panting into the painter's ear for no particular reason. When he felt Minho's throbbing hardness rubbing against his own, he let out a low moan.

"Loud, aren't you?" Minho managed to remark through a laugh. The artist snapped his mouth shut, but then the painter said, "No, do it. God, that's so hot. I want to hear you scream." He continued like this until Jisung's quivering grew more intense, then he released him, replacing the sensation with another deep kiss.

_I feel like I'm going crazy... Why am I enjoying this so much? I shouldn't! But, oh, God, it feels so good!_

When Minho held something up, it took Jisung a few seconds to realize it was a wrapped condom. He wasn't sure where it'd come from; had Minho been holding it the whole time? There wasn't much time for him to consider it, as the painter brought the serrated plastic to his mouth and tore it open with his sharp white teeth.

_Is this happening? Am I seeing this right?_

Jisung watched nervously as Minho worked the condom onto his cock with steady hands. Soon, the painter was putting two of his fingers into Jisung's again-open mouth. The introvert sucked on them like candy, slobbering all over them with his tongue. He was close to completion as it was, but he already knew Minho had something more in mind. His worry was that he might not be able to last long enough to find out what. Using the newly-lubricated fingers, Minho rubbed his gloved hard-on, but ended up adding his own saliva to the mix by spitting into his palm.

"What are you—?" Jisung choked, but couldn't finish the question. Needless to say, it surprised him when Minho grabbed and lifted his legs. He knew what was coming next, but wasn't sure how he felt about it. Whatever tired delirium he was in passed all at once, though he knew he'd need it now more than ever. The term "French mistake" swung back and forth in his head like a pendulum. But there wasn't any going back now.

Thanks to the saliva, Minho's entry wasn't as painful as it should've been, but it still hurt like hell. He'd had no preparation for this; the feeling of fullness it brought was far too intense. At the same time, though, the sensation of Minho slowly inserting inside him damn near sent him over the edge in an instant. He cried out in a mixture of pain and pleasure and threw his head back as he did.

"Shhh. It's okay it's okay." he soothes him with his sweet voice, but when the time he tried to look up at Minho, his eyes seemed telling otherwise. His eyes was _commanding_ , he could see so much superiority on him, and there was nothing he could do but to submit. Few deep thrusts had passed when Minho finally reached Jisung's spot, and it made the younger guy quiver in pleasure.

Even Minho was quivering now after many series of thrusting; that was Jisung's sign that they'd likely complete together. Something about that alone caused another surge of pleasure to wrack the younger's body, even before the painter slid out and pounded back into him. He was getting louder now, each gasp a small cry instead. Though he wanted to bite his tongue, he couldn't.

"Min—ho—! _Ah_ , M-Minho!"

"Jisung—" Minho gagged the name in response. His next thrust was even harder, causing Jisung to shout.

"M-Min—Minho—" Following another rough thrust, Jisung screamed as he came, all the muscles in his body seizing. His cry was fast stifled, though, when Minho clamped his hand around his mouth. What little of the noise he'd heard seemed to be all he needed, as he proceeded to finish as well. He did so with only a small choke, in contrast to Jisung.

For a long moment, panting hard, they both stayed where they were. Jisung's muscles twitched, still coping with the earth-shattering orgasm he'd experienced. Then, Minho slid out and laid beside him. He wrapped his arm around the smaller man and pulled him closer. Jisung responded by draping an arm over his chest.

"That was amazing," Minho divulged through a satisfied exhale.

After a quiet, agreeing hum, Jisung promptly drifted to sleep.

* * *


	9. with every breath you take you're dying, with every step we take we're falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!] trigger warning: suicide attempt.

When Jisung woke up, he found the previously kicked-off covers draped over him. He thought nothing of it at first. In fact, he continued to lie in bed for several minutes. It was only when he realized that he was alone in bed—and remembered that he shouldn't be—that he jolted upright. Sitting up hurt him though, so he slunk back down under the covers. It didn't help that the room was blinding; someone had pulled the curtains off of his windows.

He tried to recall what had happened the night prior. Most of it was a blur to him, since he'd been so worn out. It took him a couple of minutes to remember why he was naked. When he did, his face burned up from embarrassment.

_Jesus Christ, we had sex._

He rubbed his face with his hands. In retrospect, that was a horrible idea. After all, Minho did admit that he killed for sport. He wasn't exactly the best person to have given his virginity to. Never mind how sore he was now... Worse than that, Jisung's conscience began to eat away at him.

_You dirty piece of trash_ , he reprimand himself. _How could you? That bastard stabbed your only friend to death and sent you pictures, so you let him fuck you? Like some sort of slut?_

He teethed on the nail of his right thumb. His left hand reached up to his hairline, mussing it up in his stress. He wanted to push it out of his mind and get back on the moment wherein he'll going to pick up the scissors and hunt Minho down the same way he'd undoubtedly hunted Lino. But he couldn't. Every time he tried to forget what he'd recalled of his experience with Minho, he recalled a little more.

It had felt so good. So... _right_. What terrified Jisung more than anything was the realization that he didn't feel mere infatuation for Minho anymore. No, what he felt was _stronger_ than that now. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was a part of him in the back of his head that wanted— _needed_ —more.

He didn't like it. He hated that part of himself. "Stop it," he snarled at it as he tugged at his hair. "Stop it!"

_I'm not even into falling fast! There's no way I could have feelings for Minho. It was only a mistake—something that happened in the heat of the moment—a French mistake! I don't want more; I don't like Minho. I hate him so much!_

Frustrated, he ignored his pain and sat up again. He wanted to punch Minho in the face. So, he visualized it.

"Minho!" he saw himself shout as he marched toward the man.

"Yes?" inquired the handsome man, as though he was innocent.

Without answering, Jisung raised his fist to hit him, but he caught it. Then, they were making out again.

_Fuck it!_

Jisung shook his head free of the vision and stood up. The room chilled his naked body to the bone, so he was quick in scanning it. The curtains from the window were lain over the back of his chair. On the seat, folded neatly, were his clothes. Minho's were gone, but then again, so was the man himself.

Sure enough, it hurt to walk, but Jisung did his best to push it to the back of his head. He picked up his clothing piece by piece and redressed. Then he tried to find his scissors. To his surprise, they weren't there. He got onto the bed and dug further down. Still nothing. Jisung realized what had happened and scowled.

_He took the damned scissors. Son of a bitch._

He got up and opened the bedroom door. As he did, he noticed the piece of paper taped to it. With a squint, he looked closer.

"Gone to the store." it read, with a smiley face.

_Even his handwriting is gorgeous_ , Jisung thought. Then he slammed his forehead into the door with a frustrated groan at his stupid thought. The polarity of his thoughts and the argument he was losing against himself were torture.

He figured that Minho meant for him to follow, so he slipped his shoes on. He took his coat, then left his apartment. With hatred in every step, he marched to the convenience store. He didn't talk to or even look at anybody as he walked, though he kept his head held high. People on the street made an active effort to sidle away from him when he approached. For the first time, he felt confident, but in the bad way and at a wrong time. All it took was seething rage and passionate frustration brought on by confusion with his feelings.

When he arrived at the convenience store, Jeongin smiled and greeted him as normal. He didn't respond to it this time, though: he felt too unstable for social niceties. With a poker face, he approached the counter.

"Is everything all right, hyung?" asked the young man.

"Listen," Jisung spoke, "is there a guy here? Black haired guy, about this tall?"

Jeongin let out a 'Aaaah' in thought. Ultimately, he didn't seem to understand the question, as he changed the subject. "I heard last night, noises from you, above me hyung."

"What?" snapped Jisung. He admitted to himself that he came across as a bit too rude at the younger, but didn't care at the moment.

"Screams," confessed the young man in a worrying tone. "Sounded like pain. Creaking and crying too. Are you okay, hyung?"

Jisung felt his face go beet red in an instant. His throat dried. He hadn't even bothered to think about his neighbors while screaming last night. Because of that, the poor young man had heard the entire thing. He stammered, too stunned to articulate a proper sentence in his defense.

"Want anything, Jisung?"

Jisung turned his head as Minho approached the counter, holding some groceries. He looked back at Jeongin, who was still waiting for an answer, then back at Minho.

"What were they?" Jisung asked the handsome man in an anxious breath.

"What were what?" Minho inquired as he picked up and bit into an apple. He looked at Jeongin and held it up. "Don't worry, I'll pay for this."

"The screams. Last night."

"Ahh!" With confidence, as he placed everything down on the counter, Minho answered, "You know what? Those were from the tenants of 147. I thought they'd never shut up."

"Ahhh..." It was a piss-poor excuse, but one that Jeongin decided to accept. But then, he asked, "How do you two know each other?"

Before Jisung could panic, Minho beamed and reached for a handshake, which the young man gave him with confusion on his face. "We spoke a few days ago, remember? Name's Minho. I'm a friend of Jisung's. Needed a place to crash for a while, and he was nice enough to let me stay with him."

_For a man who doesn't seem to like liars_ , Jisung thought, _Minho sure is excellent at being one. His white lie sounds so smooth, it could almost be the truth. He knew it, ofcourse he knew, it was 'based on experiences' as what the others say._

"Oh, nice to meet you, Minho hyung," Jeongin responded with a bow, completely fooled.

Jisung remained silent for the duration of Minho paying Jeongin. The painter gave the young man a fifty thousand won bill, despite his total coming to less than twenty, then told him, "Keep the change." Jisung felt like he'd be sick.

Afterward, they returned to Jisung's apartment. Neither of them said a word until Jisung closed the door behind them and locked it.

"So," Minho started as he placed his bag down on the kitchen island freely like he lived there. "Seems he heard everything."

"Don't sound so goddamned cheeky about it," Jisung spat.

"Oh. Someone's grumpy. Wasn't last night good for you?"

"No," Jisung lied in a aggressive tone, his eyes staring at the older angrily, "it _wasn't_." When Minho gave him a sarcastic, knowing look, he argued, "I was too tired to know what was going on. I might've enjoyed it then, but I'm awake now and I regret it."

"You don't think you'd enjoy it if we did it again right now?" the painter challenged on a low hum. The suggestive nature of his tone and the ensuing eye contact sent a warm chill down Jisung's backbone.

"O-of course I wouldn't. I'm not into _this_ , Minho."

Minho was still for a moment, his eyes never leave the others, but then he smirked. He turned and started to approach Jisung, who took a step back.

"No," warned the younger guy, "you better stay back. Stay away. Don't touch me."

Minho ignored him and lunged forward. With his hands pressed against the wall on either side of Jisung, he leaned closer until their faces were only inches apart. All of this occurring in the course of no more than two seconds, the artist's breath hitched. Then, all was silent. The two of them stood where they were, Jisung trembling, breathing each other's breath.

"Don't..." Jisung began to speak, but it was as if Minho could sense it. He cut him off by smashing their lips together once more. The sensation sparked something in the artist's chest, causing his rage to flush from his system. He wasn't even sure _why_ he'd been angry. All that mattered was _this_. So he wrapped his arms around Minho, whose hands were now on his waist. They started to kiss each other harder—deeper.

It wasn't until the taller man's hot tongue was again wrestling his own that Jisung remembered his inner turmoil. Flashes of the pictures Minho had sent him of Lino's lifeless body flashed before his eyes.

_No... No, this is wrong. This is sick! What would Lino think?_

He moved his hands to Minho's chest and started trying to shove him away, but the other man wouldn't budge. His left hand moved up from Jisung's waist to the back of his head, holding him firmer. His tonguing started to get more aggressive, until he was practically fucking Jisung's mouth. It was becoming harder and harder for the younger to resist.

_One more time won't hurt..._

_No, goddamn it, stop it! Snap out of it! Push him away!_

The artist grabbed at the painter's sleeves and tried to do what his mind ordered. When that didn't work, he tried pushing his face away by the jaw. In response, Minho used his hands to grab both of his wrists and pin them to the wall near his head.

Jisung started to squirm in discomfort. Minho was getting rougher. Yet, while part of him was afraid, the rest of him was even more aroused than before. He wanted it rough. That frightened him terribly. He didn't _want_ to want this. So he struggled some more. Finally, Minho stopped kissing his mouth long enough for him to speak.

"Stop," he panted. "Stop it. I don't want it."

Minho only responded by grinding up against him and nibbling the underside of his chin. Jisung shivered and trembled. It felt so good that it made his eyes shut.

_I want it to stop feeling so good...! This should stop now!_

"I said _stop._ I don't—want this." He started to scream: "Don't! Let go of me, Minho!" But that didn't help either. "You're _hurting_ me!"

With those words, Minho finally pulled back. His grip on Jisung's wrists loosened. He looked at his face with a sobering concern. "What's wrong? Am I being too rough?"

Jisung took his chance to shove Minho away. It worked, causing the man took a step back. He seemed both worried and confused. The introvert bolted to the couch and stood in front of it, like he was ready to run again.

"I told you to stop!"

"I'm sorry," Minho admitted, somewhat defensive, "I didn't think you were being serious!"

"No means _no_ , asshole!" he stated angrily, "I told you, I'm not into this! Hell I'm not even _interested_ in you."

The painter scoffed. Amused, he looked down at the bulge that had formed in Jisung's pants and remarked, "That's not what your cock says."

Jisung stilled, his eyes never leave the older's until he decided pointing the door. "Get out."

"Oh, come on, Jisung."

"Get _out!_ "

Slowly, Minho's expression shifted. He frowned, something Jisung had yet to see him do. The disapproval on his face was obvious. With only a disappointed sigh, he turned and left the apartment.

_No, wait. Don't leave me alone!_ Jisung wanted to call out these words after him, but made himself bite his tongue.

The door hung open behind him as he disappeared into the hallway. There were no footsteps, though, to indicate that he'd left. He'd got out, but seemed to be standing just out of sight. This both relieved and enraged Jisung, though he did nothing but ignore it.

_Lino hyung..._

Jisung finally sat down. Before he knew what he was doing, he was crying. The tears came late, but when they did, they were plentiful. Everything that had happened in the past week had culminated into one huge sobbing fest. He couldn't take it anymore, but crying wasn't helping. With shaky hands, he tugged his hair over his leaking eyes and cried harder.

"Oh, God, Lino... Lino hyung! I'm so sorry. This is all my fault... _Lino_...!"

He didn't care who heard... but it didn't help either. He needed _release_. His eyes shot to the open door out of the apartment. All Minho could give him was a way to pretend it'd never happened, but he'd always be a reminder of it, wouldn't he? After all, he _was_ Lino's murderer. Why did he even have to tell him to go on Omegle? Why on that night? Why had he been punished for _his_ mistakes?

_Because it's more tragic that way. Minho's a painter; he wants to tell a story with his artworks._

What, then, did he want as an ending? If Jisung had to guess, he seemed to be aiming for a happy ending; one where they wound up together. One where he'd leave Incheon with him and go wherever he did, forever.

_Oh, I'll give him a bloody ending, all right. Not the ending he wants, but the ending was like his pathetic subject paints for him!_

After a few moments, he leapt to his feet and rushed into his bedroom. He slammed the door shut and picked up his gaming chair to block it. It didn't work, though; the wheels kept causing it to slip. Frustrated, he let out a cry as he picked it up and hurled it against the wall as if it could help to lock the door. Then he jumped up onto his bed. With a pull of the latch, his window pushed open outward. He stared through it, but didn't dare to look down.

_I want release? Well, this is my release..._

He remembered how, only a few days ago, he'd considered the odds of his death falling from this window. He hadn't considered his chances very high. Looking out through it now, though, he recalled how the ground below was solid concrete. There was a parking lot back there, but no one ever used it. After a few seconds, it dawned on him: what he was about to do.

_This is insane. I'm not suicidal. I'll die if I do this. I don't want to die! I only want release...!_

Release from this living hell his life had turned into. It was either this or submitting to Minho, because he doubted the man would ever let him go. This was his only chance to escape. He knew it was irrational and crazy, but to him, it was better than being in love with a serial killer.

"Jisung?" When the bedroom door opened, the artist whipped around. He sat down on the ledge, ready to push himself back at any moment. Upon entering, Minho saw this and froze. For a beat, their eyes locked in silence. There looked to be genuine fear in the painter's dark black eyes, but who knew whether it was fake? When he twitched, preparing to step forward, Jisung shot his arm out toward him as a warning.

"No! Stay right there. Don't move a fucking _muscle_ , or I'll jump; I swear I will, so help me God! You _know_ I will!"

Minho stopped and held his hands up in surrender. "Okay," he gasped. "Okay, I get it. I won't move. Don't do this, Jisung. Think about this."

"Oh, I have, Minho. I _have_ thought about this."

"You don't want to do this. This is crazy."

"Not as crazy as you!"

Minho's brows furrowed. "Listen. I can help you. It doesn't have to end here."

"Help me?" Jisung laughed helplessly, though it sounded more like a sob. "How? By killing someone else? My parents, perhaps? You're a monster, Minho!"

"Then call the cops!" insisted the painter as he offered his hands, wrists together to pantomime handcuffs. "Get me arrested! Show them the pictures I sent you, show them the texts! Anything but _this_!"

Jisung, a wry smirk on his face contorted by emotional pain, shook his head. "No. You'd only get out. You'd frame me."

Minho lowered his hands. There was a look of sadness painted onto his handsome face. "Jisung..." He called. "Come on, man. Come back here to me, please? I was just kidding!"

"Sometimes you have to let the subject paint the story, Minho. You have to let the subjects decide where the story of an artwork ends."

The painter shook his head, slow then fast. "No," he said. "No, no, no. Don't do this to me, Jisung. Please don't do this."

It was raining outside. The weather had been confusing as of late: some days it was snowing, others it was pouring. Whatever the case, Han Jisung hadn't seen the sun for several days...

He stared at Minho for the last time before closing his eyes tight. Then, right there, he pushed himself backwards.

"Jisung!"

When he landed, he landed _hard_. What confused him amidst the jolt of fright, though, was that he was still conscious. Only to the point where, if there _was_ any pain, he couldn't feel it, but he was _still conscious_. Whatever he'd landed on felt padded, but was metal underneath. It'd creaked and crumpled to break his fall; he'd heard what sounded like two or three windows shattering.

He opened his eyes as wide as he could, which was only a blurred ray of vision he could see. Everything was cloudy and spinning. He was hurt badly, but not dead.

_Just my luck._

All he could feel was the coldness of the raindrops that landed on his face. He struggled to turn his head—to get up and see what he'd landed on—but it was no use. The most he managed was getting his head to fall to the side.

He realized two things once he was able to look to his right. First, he hadn't landed on the ground. No, he'd landed on something else.

_A car_ , he determined. _Of course, I landed on a car._

He felt around with a weak hand, pressing down. It felt like a mattress of some sort.

_Who puts a mattress on the roof of their car and leaves it?_

Second, he discovered he wasn't alone in the parking lot. He struggled to focus his eyes so he could see the person leaning against the wall of the building, but he couldn't. Thankfully they approached... but that didn't make Jisung any happier.

It was Minho, of course. He was spinning something—car keys, Jisung decided—around his right index finger. Above the ringing in his ears, Jisung heard him whistle.

"You know, you're right," he said. "Sometimes you do have to sit back and let the subject change the story. But what you forgot, Jisung, is that every good story needs a little bit of Murphy's Law. _Anything that could go wrong will go wrong._ "

Jisung tried to argue, but he was only able to groan and close his eyes in pain. He didn't even bother to wonder why Minho had planned ahead in the event of this. It was almost as if he'd unwittingly played right into his insane plot, like he was a writer.

Minho leaned close to the artist's face and smirked. "So," he asked, voice playful, "what do you think of my car?"

Jisung felt his lips curl into a smile against his will. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, a struggle in and of itself, before forcing himself to speak. Meeting Minho's eyes, he spat, "Fuck you."

The painter grinned out of a sick sense of pride, his eyes still boring into the younger's eyes. Then, Jisung felt his eyes rolling back. His neck could no longer support the weight of his head. A few seconds later, he fell unconscious.

Minho stood up straight and exhaled. His car wasn't too dented—the light mattress he'd strapped to the roof had absorbed most of the impact. It helped that Jisung wasn't very heavy. Still, he knew he'd be better off buying a new vehicle altogether.

He carefully scooped the artist up into his arms. By his estimate, he'd likely taken a significant blow to the back more than anything else. It wouldn't surprise him to find that one or more of his vertebrae shattered on impact. He only hoped that his spinal cord wasn't injured to the point of no return.

The suicide attempt had, of course, been something he'd considered as a possible out for Jisung. After losing a previous "case study" the same way, seeing how similar they looked, he'd decided to be cautious. It seemed they _acted_ similar, too. At least he'd planned ahead.

Though, to be honest, he hadn't expected this outcome. Not that he'd expected the introvert to come with him on his own. He knew that wasn't in the cards, but he still hadn't expected Jisung to make an attempt on his own life, at least not like this. It seemed out of character. Why hadn't he been able to talk him down?

His plan had been more along the lines of Jisung _faking_ his own suicide to run away with him. Of course, though, things couldn't _always_ go to plan. This alternative worked, anyway.

With a weary sigh, he opened the side door of the car and laid Jisung down along the backseat. Then he closed the door. The mattress was left on the roof of the car to hide the dents. He walked around and stepped into the driver's seat. The car still started, which was a relief to him. He glanced up at Jisung's unconscious form in the rearview mirror and beamed at it.

"Happy _d-day_ , Jisung."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we'll be having minho's point of view for the next chapter!!! plus new skz otp will be added,, can't wait to add them in the story. ^^
> 
> thanks for anticipating. :))


	10. i'm meaner than my demons, i'm bigger than these bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! trigger warning: animal and human murder. 
> 
> please feel free to skip the murder part if you feel uncomfortable. thaaaaanks!

When Minho was eight-and-a-half years old, his mother bought him a hamster. Its soft, puffy fur was a mix of white and brown, contrasted by its pretty pale dark eyes. Despite his mother's small protest that it was like a surname, he dubbed the hamster "Han". Han was his pride and joy; the hamster loved him and would never leave his side. Whenever Minho asked for affection, whenever he pet it's soft fur, it would stay still and behave without a second thought. Two months later, he held Han under the water of the nearby creek until it stopped struggling. He'd wanted to see if it could fight him. It couldn't. Of course, it couldn't. He was more powerful between them.

Though he did tell his parents Han had drowned, he didn't tell them how it happened. In retrospect, he almost wished he'd told them while pretending to cry, because the casual way he brought it up seemed to disturb them. He watched as his mother shot his father an anxious look. His father reciprocated it, though not so visibly shaken. Then, his mother looked back down at him. She ran her hands down the small apron around her waist before kneeling down in front of him. One of her pale hands gripped his shoulder, half for comfort and half to support herself in the crouch.

"Minho, honey," she crooned. "That's awful. I'm sorry." Her arms opened wide. "Come here."

Despite how the offer of affection confused him, he wasn't about to pass it up. Moving into her arms, he held her tight. She embraced him, petting the back of his black-haired head. Compared to him and his father, Minho's mother seemed out of place. While both of the men had light ecru-skin, and hair of black, her skin was porcelain white, hair light brown. The most Minho had inherited of her genetics was that his skin was a fraction lighter than his father's. Regardless, Minho liked how she stood out from them. He couldn't say he loved her, but she was his favorite of the two. Stubborn at times, though...

After a moment, she said, "Listen, Minho... Would you like to see your grandparents early this year?"

"Yeobo," his father barked. He was sitting at the dining room table reading a newspaper, but he lowered the paper as he called his wife.

"No, don't start," she responded. Then, she looked back down at Minho. She lifted his face and smiled at him. "What do you say, honey?"

Minho considered it. His grandparents—his mother's parents—lived and migrated in Melbourne. He enjoyed Australia very much; they went there for a month every year for his birthday. Being able to spend a little more than a month in his favorite city was an exciting thought. So, of course, he nodded his little head.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His mother smiled and ruffled his bangs. Bringing her attention to them, her smile turned a little softer. "Are you always going to slick these up like daddy?"

Minho shrugged.

His father lifted his newspaper again. "Minho, why don't you go play in your room for a bit? We'll call you when lunch is ready."

He glanced at the older man. Usually, if he told him to leave the room, it was because he expected an argument to start. Minho always found their fights interesting to eavesdrop on. It made him feel grown-up, to try to figure out what motivated their sides of the argument. Sometimes he couldn't figure it out, though. Grown-ups were so strange sometimes. Would he have pointless arguments like theirs, too, when he was older?

"Okay, dad." He wasn't sure when he'd stopped calling him "daddy". It felt like a recent change, but he liked to pretend he'd always called him "dad" instead.

After leaving the kitchen, he headed for the stairs. But rather than go up to the second floor, he sat on one of the steps and listened. For a few beats, all was silent but for the sound of his mother putting meat on the pan. Its sizzling made it so he'd have to listen a little harder.

Finally, his father said, "We're not going to Australia until June."

"June's only two weeks away," she responded.

"Two weeks that I'd much rather spend away from your parents. You know those two hate me."

"Well, maybe if you tried to show them some respect..."

"I don't know why we bother to visit them at all."

"Because they have the rights to see their grandson. Minho likes them, anyway."

He didn't, not really; what he liked was Melbourne. Rather than break this news to her, though, he decided it was easier to let her believe what she wanted.

"He only likes them because he's not old enough to realize-"

"Please. He's just lost that hamster. I thought it'd make him feel better."

"We shouldn't be rewarding him. If he'd taken better care of the hamster, or kept a better eye on it, it wouldn't have drowned."

"How can you be so heartless? Where's your compassion?"

"Hah, compassion. Does _he_ have compassion?"

"What? What are you saying? Who?"

"You know exactly who."

"I don't think I do."

"Yunho."

Yunho was the next-door neighbor, but his mother always called him "Uncle Yunho" when they were alone. Working as a nephrologist took his father away often. During these times, Uncle Yunho would always come to take his place. Uncle Yunho was a bit overweight, but his mother liked him a lot for some reason. She'd made Minho promise not to mention how she kissed him. But, a few weeks ago, she'd slipped up and mentioned him to Minho, as " _Uncle_ Yunho", while his father was in the other room. Since then, Uncle Yunho was a hot topic for their arguments. His mention was frequent, but also boring for Minho. He couldn't understand why that fat oaf was so relevant to them. So what if his mother kissed him? So what if they went upstairs alone and his mother moaned louder than she did with his father? Why did everything come back to him?

"Minhyun, I told you; I call him that to Minho so he can understand he's not a stranger. He only comes over to babysit while you're gone."

"Well why do I have a hard time believing that?"

"I don't know."

"I think you do."

"I really don't. You're making something of nothing."

They said nothing else. Minho found this a tad surprising; for once, their argument hadn't dwindled into a screaming match. Was that a good or bad sign? Either way, before they called him down for lunch, he snuck the rest of the way upstairs and went to his room.

A few days later, all three of them were in Melbourne. As they waited for a taxi, Minho jogged around the airport in excitement. He lived for new experiences; with how little time they spent there a year, Melbourne was always a new experience. Something about the city would always captivate him, though he wasn't sure what. For some reason he couldn't explain, he felt like his life would change in this city. Whether for better or worse, who knew? The excitement of the possibility of either was enough for him.

His grandparents, Hyeri Kim and Beomseok Choi, lived in an expensive, two-storey house on the some side of Albert Park Lake. Nice as they were, he liked the house more, to be honest. With most of its contents, inside and out, being white, it looked innocent and pristine. When he was even younger, he'd often tried to get away with dirtying it in secret. The times Hyeri caught him, she'd gently scolded him. Beomseok was a lot rougher with his punishment. Minho had fast learned to play the role of a good boy around him. Somehow, he got the feeling the old man didn't like him either way, though.

The first two weeks of their visit passed with little event. His mother talked with Hyeri a lot about things Minho didn't care to listen to. Meanwhile, his father and Beomseok glared at each other a lot. Then came Minho's birthday, on the 25th. As usual, he was the second person to wake up. When he went downstairs, he found his grandmother sitting in front of the sliding glass doors to the backyard. Without her even needing to ask, he approached, sitting in the seat beside hers, meant for Beomseok. She looked over and smiled at him.

"Good morning, Minho."

"Good morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"I guess so."

His grandmother nodded. For a beat, she was quiet. Then: "Say. Today's your birthday, isn't it?"

"Yep."

"How old are you now, dear?"

"Nine."

"Nine? Wow. You grow up so fast."

"I wish I was older."

The old woman responded with a bittersweet laugh. "Before you know it, you'll be wishing the opposite."

"I won't."

"That's what I thought, when I was your age."

A few seconds of silence. She might've thought Minho was taking in her wise words, because he was. But at the forefront of his mind, he was still certain he'd prove her wrong. Who wanted to be young? Being young was so boring. When he was older, he could do anything he wanted. The world would be his oyster.

"Seeing as it's your special day," she began, "would you like to go to the store to get your cake after breakfast?"

"Yes, please!"

"You still like strawberry cake, right?"

Minho nodded. "Mm-hmm."

A bit amused by his unusual preference, Hyeri hummed to herself and gazed outside. "Whatever the birthday boy likes, the birthday boy gets."

The little boy grinned.

About an hour later, Beomseok finally came downstairs. Shortly after, from the basement came Minho's mother. As they took their seats at the table, Hyeri started to prepare breakfast: toast for Beomseok, eggs for Minho's parents, and strawberry muffins for herself and Minho.

"Where's Minhyun?" she asked as she flipped the eggs.

"He'll be up in a few minutes, I reckon," answered Minho's mother. "Do you need some help, mom?"

"No thanks, sweetheart. I've got this."

His mother sighed and looked a bit tense for a moment. When she noticed he was staring at her, she smiled for him, reached over and massaged his hand.

His father did indeed join them a few minutes later. Once breakfast was ready, everyone took their time getting dressed.

"Are mom and dad coming with us this time?" inquired Minho as the old woman doted on him, buttoning his coat even though he could do it himself.

"No, dear. They're going somewhere else," she answered.

"Why?"

"To get you another present, I figure."

Another present? Something bought in Melbourne? Minho could hardly wait.

As usual, the cake Minho picked at the store wasn't presented to him until after lunch. Everyone sang happy birthday to him, even Beomseok, though he did it without much feeling. When they finished, Minho giggled a bit.

"Make a wish, sweety," his mother urged.

Minho gazed at the candles sticking out of the strawberry cake. After a long moment, he finally decided on something and blew out the flames. Everyone clapped.

Present after present, Minho accepted them all with a mature humbleness. Then, his mother headed into the basement.

"Where's mom going?" he inquired.

"I'm not sure," his father replied, though his tone made it obvious he was lying. Minho tried not to mind, since he'd know the truth soon enough. That it kept things interesting justified the lie in his eyes.

When she returned, she did so with a small, covered cage. Hyeri and Beomseok eyed this, uncertain about what was inside. Since there was no chirping, Minho felt it safe to assume it wasn't a bird, but he couldn't be sure.

"Since you lost Han, your dad and I decided to get you something bigger. Something... easier to look after."

As Minho gazed in mute curiosity, his dad gave him a pat on the back.

"Lift the cover, buddy. It won't bite."

Minho reached out with reluctance. Between two fingers, he caught the cover and lifted it up. Inside the cage was a fluffy white and orange furred cat. All at once, Minho found himself entranced with it; he opened the cage door, reached in, and took a gentle hold. It squirmed a little, then relaxed. Its pink nose twitched as it sniffed his palm.

"We bought a lot of cat foods and milk," his father told him, "so you can give them with it."

"It's so cute," Minho gushed.

"What are you going to name him?" Hyeri asked.

Minho thought for a beat. Then, he answered, "Dash."

"Dash? What an unusual name."

"I think it's a fine name, it suits him." countered his mother. 

Minho smiled at Dash. The cat let out a small huff through its nostrils and blinked at him with its beady gray eyes. When his mother's cellphone started to ring, she tensed a bit. She hesitated before pulling it from her purse, sat on the kitchen island. With a forced casual tone, she answered and left the room. Minho glanced at his father; caught him glaring after her before he corrected his face.

Bringing Dash back to Gimpo with them a week later was a little bit of a hassle, but they managed. The cat's presence had absorbed Minho's life; he'd hardly noticed that his parents argued more and more. The whole flight, they were silent. Now that they were back home, they started arguing again. Over and over, all day long, they'd scream and throw things at each other. Minho, meanwhile, spent most of his time in his room with Dash. He loved watching it chew on cat food.

It was the 3rd, his mother's birthday, when, while in the kitchen with Dash, he heard her come downstairs. Standing in the living room, where his father was, she said,

"I'm leaving you."

Minho froze. Had he heard that right? She was leaving? What did that mean? She wasn't leaving for good, was she? No. Dad wouldn't let her do that.

"What?" his father asked.

"We're not good for each other, and you're scaring me. Every day, we fight. We scream. We've started _throwing_ things at each other; do you think that's _normal_ , Minhyun?"

"No. I never said that."

"Then try to understand what I'm saying! I am leaving you! I'm taking Minho, and we're going."

"Going where, Jinhye, huh? Going where?"

"Next door, to Yunho."

"Oh, of course. Running to good Uncle Yunho. Of course."

"Minhyun. Minhyun, stop. I've already packed my things. Minho! Minho, come here!"

Minho did nothing. He glanced at Dash. The cat seemed a tad agitated.

"You aren't taking him, Jinhye. I'm not letting you leave."

"Shut up, Minhyun. This is over. Minho!"

Minho got up from the dining table, grabbing Dash and put him inside his fancy cage. Pulling it along, he headed for the back door. As his father started shouting, he tugged the door open and went outside. When he went back inside, the fighting would be over. All he had to do was kill some time.

Truth be told, as much as he'd enjoyed Dash at first, the cat now bored him. It was too predictable. Too fidgety. And, oh, how often its cage needed to be cleaned! Holding said cage, he headed to the back shed. His father kept tools in there, in case he ever needed to do some home repair.

When he opened the cage, it took some coaxing to get the cat to come out. Once it did, he closed the door so it wouldn't jump back in. It looked up at him with its strange gray eyes. It trusted him. Did it know what he planned to do with the hammer?

With hard downward thrusts, he exerted some stress. When the cat started squealing, his motive changed: he wanted it to shut up. Its squeals of pain were ear-piercing. So he kept hitting it. Doing this, he could both blow off some steam and convince his parents to get him a new cat. Maybe the next one would be more interesting.

He wasn't sure how long it'd been by the time he stopped. Panting, he slumped back against one of the walls. What would he say? Ah, he could say it bit him. That'd do it. He brought it into the shed and it became feral. His mother would be too worried about him and the threat of rabies to care how violent his response was. In curiosity, he gazed at the cat dead on the workbench. It was then that he noticed something interesting: though Dash's fur had been white and orange before, the blood sopping into it dyed it pink with the white part. He leaned closer to get a better look. Indeed, he'd managed to change the color of Dash's fur. If washed, would it remain pink? Whatever the case, he knew it right then and there: this sight would stay with him for years to come.

To help his case, he grabbed the cat's crushed head and placed his index finger in its mouth. Then he pressed down hard. As the cat's displaced teeth dug into his skin, it hurt, but he knew it had to be done. Once he was bleeding, too, he dropped the hammer and left the shed. As he approached the back door, he mustered up some crocodile tears. Crying would help his case even more.

"Mom," he cried as he entered the kitchen. There was no response. Continuing his crying only to keep up with the deception, he approached the living room. His fake response slipped away immediately, though, when he saw what awaited him inside.

The living room was a mess. It almost looked like a tornado has passed through. In the middle of the room, lying on her back on the carpet, was his mother. Her dark shirt had darker stains blotched on it. Her dark eyes were open wide, staring up at the ceiling. Standing only a few feet in front of him now was his father. He was breathing hard. In his left hand, he held a knife. When he realized Minho was there, he turned his head, looking down upon his son. The boy jolted, stared back in dumb terror. Killing Dash, he could handle. Killing Han, too. But his mother, killed by his father? Killed at all? It was so unexpected! What had she done to deserve that? It was her birthday. Everything was supposed to have been okay!

"Minho," his father barked in a low, gruff voice. "Get me a trash bag."

-

There was something about birthdays that made Minho celebrate in a bloody way.

3:47 AM. Minho, now a BS psychology student, walked on his way back to his dorm. He had left at around 10 PM that night. All he'd said to his dorm mate was, "He called. Be back later." He was usually back by midnight. His prolonged disappearance had surely made Seungmin restless, as far as he could knew.

It wasn't as if Minho couldn't defend himself. His dormmate was only a little taller than him. But despite of this fact, he knew to himself that his very much caring dorm mate hadn't been sleeping out of worriedness as of the moment.

At 3:50 on the dot, he silently entered the dorm, the sound of his two sets of footsteps in the hallway echoed around the place. He cleaned some blood stains on his arms with his handkerchief to make himself clean and presentable in front of Seungmin.

When he opened the door, Minho could see through the open door of their room, Seungmin tensed under the covers. He knew he was trying to pretend he was asleep as soon as Minho himself close and lock the door behind himself. His footsteps then stepped further into the room, approaching the nightstand. There was the distinct sound of plastic rustling—a bag he was holding, then, he clicked the lamp on.

There were a few beats where nothing happened. More or less blind, it was impossible for Seungmin to know if Minho was even still on the bed. The dark shape hadn't moved, though, so he figured it was a safe bet he was.

"I know you're still awake," Minho said out of the blue.

For a couple seconds more, Seungmin stayed still. But when Minho did nothing about it, the younger guy decided to come clean, lifting the blanket off his head and tossing it down past his chest.

"How did you know?" he asked.

"You breathe heavy when you sleep," answered the painter without as much as a glance.

"Do I snore?"

"No. Just... _breathe_."

Seungmin perched himself up on his elbow. "You don't sound like you're in a good mood. Did something happen?"

Minho was silent. In a slow, fluid movement, he cocked his head to the side to match the younger's anxious, puppy-eyed gaze. Minho showed mischief in his own dark black eyes, but also in the faint smirk on his dark lips.

"No," he answered. The way he still responded bitter was enough of a hint for Seungmin.

"Oh. I see. You wanted to...?"

Minho whipped his head back toward the door. "Never mind it. It's nothing."

He could see that Seungmin mimicked him from his peripheral vision, only slower. Then he shook his head. "I don't know what you _see_ in _him_."

"Forget it." The painter moved his legs off of his bed, now sitting facing the younger guy. In his left hand, he held a black plastic bag. "Let's party."

"Huh?" Seungmin raised a brow, an awkward smile creeping across his face. "What do you mean? It's half-past three in the morning, Minho hyung. I hardly think anyone is partying anymore."

"You'd be surprised."

Seungmin laughed a bit as he stared at Minho. He surely expected the older guy to crack and give some sign that he was kidding. Instead, though, the painter's smug poker face remained perfectly intact.

_He must think that I'm making fun of him. But hell yeah, of course he is, it's good to have fun with this day._ He knew someone who's celebrating a birthday today, though that someone has no connection with Seungmin, it's still good to celebrate tonight.

The prolonged eye contact made Seungmin nervous, so he looked away with a smaller laugh. "Nah," he stammered, "I don't think so. You know me, hyung; I'm not quite the 'party' type."

Minho reached into the bag. From it, the first thing he pulled was a black bottle. Upon closer inspection, Seungmin widened his eyes and realized it was—

"Wine," said Minho.

The grin Seungmin made was one of bewilderment. Despite his obvious confusion, though, the painter said nothing more. "Okay, I'll bite. Why do you have a bottle of wine?"

"Well, the party might be over, but I didn't want you to feel left out."

"Are you high on something right now?"

Minho, amused, shook his head and set the wine bottle down on his side of the nightstand. He emptied the bag, revealing two wine glasses wrapped in brown paper. After tossing the paper into his trash bin and setting the glasses down on the stand as well, he picked up the bottle and twisted off its cap. It wasn't until he started pouring a second glass that Seungmin spoke up.

"Oh, hyung, no. I shouldn't."

Regardless, Minho stood and extended a glass toward him. Seungmin stared at it—at the dark red liquid sitting still inside—then at Minho. The painter motioned for him to take it.

"Come on," he urged. "Don't make me finish the bottle alone."

With a defeated huff, Seungmin draped his legs over the side of his bed and accepted the glass. "Who drinks at three in the morning?" He grumbled.

Minho sat back down. "Alcoholics and college students, my friend."

"Are we one or both?" joked his dorm mate.

"Let's drink and find out." Minho winked.

Seungmin laughed, but then gazed down into his own glass. He didn't say it out loud but Minho knew that Seungmin felt anxious; he'd never drank alcohol before, never mind bitter wine.

"Hey." he called.

Seungmin's voice got his attention. When he looked up, he held his glass out, proposing a toast.

"Do you trust me, Seungmin?" he asked.

Seungmin took a deep breath and smiled. "Despite everything," he responded, light-hearted, "yeah." He held out his own glass, clinking it against Minho's.

They both tilted their heads back and started to drink. Minho watched as Seungmin pinched his eyes shut as he gulped down the wine in his glass. Once there was nothing left in the cup, the younger looked down, mouth still full, as he tried to swallow it. Upon doing so, his eyes fell upon Minho, who was still staring at him with his own expression of bewilderment. His portion of wine looked unchanged.

"Mm!" Seungmin seemed to force himself to swallow the bittersweet liquid he'd sucked from the cup. "You didn't drink!"

For a beat, Minho only stared. Then, he said, in an 'amused' tone: "Um. Wow. I'm... impressed, to be honest. Never, uh..." He glanced at the bottle like he was stunned but the truth was that he wasn't. "...seen someone chug wine like that before." He reached for the bottle, but then curled his hand into a fist, seeming to reconsider. "Maybe I... shouldn't give you anymore."

Seungmin couldn't help but snicker. "I've never seen you so flustered!"

"Well, I'm speechless!" Minho laughed. "I didn't expect that. It takes a lot to surprise me, so... kudos?" Though he smiled at Seungmin, it almost showed like he was a bit worried. He was good at playing and manipulating with emotions. He had been good in it since he was young.

"Don't worry, I don't want anymore," Seungmin said in an attempt to soothe him. "That was awful."

Minho only let out a brief, stifled snicker. He held up his own glass. "I'd chug mine," he said, "but, you know, I, uh... don't want a hangover." Then he cleared his throat, composing himself in an instant. "Anyway. Let's talk."

"Is this what you do at parties?"

"Pretty much. It's rather boring."

Minho watched Seungmin raising a brow. "Boring? Then why do you go?"

Minho shrugged. "To unwind, I guess. Plus, it gives me an excuse to spend time with Peter." He watched the younger near-autonomous response to hearing Peter's name. "You know, you rolling your eyes when I mention Peter is as reliable as the sun rising in the morning. What is it you have against him, anyway?" It was a serious question, but asked in a casual tone that gave it the impression of simple curiosity rather than a demand.

His dormmate shrugged his shoulders. "Believe me: if I knew, I'd tell you. Something about him rubs me the wrong way somehow."

"Is it the marijuana?"

"It could be. I'm not sure."

"If it makes you feel any better, I've never smoked with him," he revealed. "I mean, I've thought about it, but it's more interesting to study its effects on him than try it myself, you know? Cigarettes are better, anyway."

"Are you still smoking those?" Seungmin inquired. "I thought you quit."

"Eh, well, you know..." Minho played the wine in his glass. "Old habits die hard."

"Old habits? You're still young."

The older made a high-pitched groan, earning a laugh from Seungmin. At the sound, he smirked. Then, he asked, "That wine hitting you yet?"

Minho snapped his mouth shut and watched Seungmin became silent like he was thinking if he'll answer the question.

"Seungmin?"

"Umm, yeah sure..."

Minho blinked.

"I know the feeling."

"You don't. You've never drank before."

"How do you know that?"

"Well, for one, you _chugged wine_."

Seungmin squirmed. "All right. Good point."

Minho chose not to judge him, though. He only beamed at him, handsome face lit up with friendliness. "It'll probably hit you all at once," he advised. "Don't panic if you feel dizzy all of a sudden."

"I can handle it," Seungmin boasted.

"I don't think you can. This wine's... stronger than most."

The pause he made had surely made the younger feel a bit suspicious. Before he could dwell on it too long, though, as if cued, a sudden squint of his eyes hit to him like he was feeling sedated. In an attempt to work through it, Seungmin shook his head, but what he didn't know was that it wouldn't work.

"Oh," he mumbled. "Okay, you might be right. I'm, uh.... _oh_."

"Hitting you hard, huh?"

"Yep."

"I can tell." Minho stood up and headed toward the door. He started slipping off his shoes. Then, off went his dark brown leather coat; he hung it up next to one of Seungmin's.

As Minho stepped back into the room, Seungmin asked him, slurring his words: "What was in that wine?"

The painter tilted his head like a confused cat and looked at him in a manipulative way. "I don't know what you mean."

"I feel... real weird..."

Minho laughed with pride. Oh no he has no idea what he had done with. "You must be a light-weight."

"Mmm..." Seungmin tried shaking his head again, but only managed to sluggishly drag it from side to side. "F-feel... tranqed..."

Minho hummed in response. "Shouldn't have drank so much." He reached down and grabbed Seungmin's legs, moved them up onto the bed.

"What are you—...?"

The painter clambered onto the bed, over Seungmin's legs. This made his dorm mate move to stop him, but he fell onto his back when Minho gave his chest a gentle shove.

"Lie down, Seungmin," he husked.

"What are you doing?" slurred Seungmin.

His arms were the only things holding him above Seungmin as he stared down at him. The younger gazed back, unsure of what to do. _Could_ he even do anything? It was so hard to move in his case.

"When's your birthday?" Minho asked as he ran his fingers across Seungmin's cheek.

The dandy guy started to giggle, almost against his own will. "What? What're you asking that for? You keep asking..."

"And you've yet to answer."

"I keep telling you, it... it doesn't matter..."

Minho trailed his fingers up over where Seungmin's esophagus could be found. It must been felt good for the younger as his neck arched into it for more on its own. Then Minho grabbed his chin and used it to tilt his head to the side. The painter's slippery tongue suddenly licked his right cheek quickly.

"What was in that wine...?" Seungmin moaned again as Minho gave his cheek small pecks. He giggled as if the kisses tickled him. "Cut it out, hyung..."

"Your birthday," Minho repeated. "I'll stop if you tell me when it is."

"Why is it so important...?" That was the wrong answer, as the older then centered his licks on the ridges of Seungmin's ear. " _Mmn_ , hyung, _nn..."_

A few gentle smacks on the other cheek made Seungmin open his eyes again.

"Hey," said Minho, "don't fall asleep on me yet. Tell me your birthday."

Seungmin seemed to be wasn't listening anymore. In his half-conscious haze, he took in the sight of Minho's face. All at once, Minho knew Seungmin was infatuated with him. Seungmin was a good looking guy. The girls were head over heels for him for having beautiful, soft face. Too bad he wasn't feeling the same. He only did the wine drinking shits for a specific reason. He knew he'd at least remember this face in front of him, forever. He will _never_ be forgotten. What he couldn't tell was whether that would be a good thing.

"Hmph." Minho slumped his arms against Seungmin's chest and pouted, holding his face up in one of his own hands. "If I'd known you were going to chug the damn thing, I only would've given you half a glass. Doubt you'll remember anything from this point on. What to do, what do to?" He smirked at Seungmin, tapped his nose as if he were a child. "I could do anything I want to you right now, you know? Anything I want," he repeated, "and you'd _like_ it."

Seungmin was only capable of a small moan in the back of his throat.

With a suggestive firmness, he danced his fingers across the younger's chest. "I could even fuck you, if I wanted to. If _I_ drank, too, neither of us would remember a thing in the morning." Their eyes met, but with Seungmin's half lidded eyes, the painter leaned in closer. His hot breath splashed against the dandy's mouth as he whispered, with a hint of playful malice, "So, do you still trust me, Seungmin?"

* * *

Minho took the candles in his palm and stuck them into the spongey cake on the counter. It was September 14. This also meant that it was Tuesday. Minho always enjoyed celebrating and identifying other's birthday. This year, Tuesday was his favorite day of the week. Next year, it would be Wednesday.

He wasn't sure what he got out of enjoyment knowing other's birthday, he wasn't even sure why he like it even _more_ when their birthdays got placed to _doomsday_. A satisfaction with life? A sense of fulfillment? Either way, he felt that every doomsday was special. 14th of September was, unlike others, a day that wasn't fell on doomsday, but felt happy at. Two days ago was a doomsday, as were the 5th, 19th, and 26th. He hadn't killed someone at the 5th, but somehow he felt contented.

If someone were to ask him _why_ he took such an interest at birthdays and doomsday algorithm, he knew he wouldn't have a real answer. There was just something about the term "d-days" that piqued his interest and made him think it was awesome.

April 18th, the day of Jisung's suicide attempt, had also been a doomsday. In retrospect, he sort of wished he had waited to kill Lino. He'd always enjoyed playing and killing on birthday and doomsday more than others. Even better, though, were birthday kills. His mother were killed at her birthday, someone who was close to him before was killed by his birthday too. Finding people whose birthdates landed on their doomsday was always the most enjoyful. He'd wait until the day arrived and kill them then. Reminded by the thought of birthdays, Minho stopped daydreaming and returned to the cake.

All birthdays were special, but _this_ d-day was more so than the rest. Someone he knew was celebrating their birthday today. He took his time, lighting all the candles one by one. Once each of them had a glowing flame on its wick, he turned to the drawer and pulled it open. From it he pulled out a large knife, tested its edge. It was sharp, as he preferred. This knife would do the trick. Holding it, he took the cake in both hands and headed upstairs.

He was in his own house. It was large and spacious; quite the opposite of what he considered modest. He could almost call it a mansion. Up until six months ago, it had been his and his alone. Not that he minded sharing it now. As he'd said to Jisung about his money, he felt there was no point having such a extravagant home all to himself. Sharing was caring, after all.

Upon reaching the second floor, he turned to his right. In front of him was the doorway to the outside balcony. Both doors were open and there, standing near the railing and staring into the distance, stood the birthday boy. In his right hand, he held a lit cigarette. Smoking was a bad habit of Minho's that clashed with his otherwise-healthy lifestyle. He usually didn't smoke unless stress got the better of him, which was rare. He'd somehow managed to get his new, permanent housemate hooked, though. It was part of his plan to deal with that soon, but he knew he might never get around to it. For a moment, the painter only stood by the stairs, holding the cake and gazing at the birthday boy.

The brisk September winds were blowing the cigarette smoke into his face, but he didn't seem to mind. His clean, fluffy black hair was being thrown about wildly, but the more of a mess it became, the more attractive it was. Messy hair suited him. He tried experimenting his hair with gel, and he still looked very good, it would always be. He was scrawny as he always would be, still so much shorter than Minho. Despite a spinal injury five months prior, he'd coped well, though he sometimes preferred to rely on a cane. Dressed in a crisp black suit, something about the glow of the setting sun in the horizon made him look stunning.

Minho figured he'd stalled long enough. There was a small, round table a few feet away, between him and the doors to the balcony. The only thing on it was an ashtray. He cleared his throat intently and the birthday boy turned to face him. Then, he approached the table.

"Happy birthday to you," he sung. "Happy _birthday_ to you."

The young man on the balcony took a few steps closer as Minho set down the cake.

"Happy _birthday_ , dear Sungie..."

Jisung met Minho's gaze. There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Happy birthday to you." Minho reached for the younger's waist, leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then his lips. Their kiss had included tongues, taste of cigarettes longed within their mouths. After pulling away, he cupped Jisung's head in his hands and crooned, "Your birthday is my _favorite_ d-day."

The younger said nothing. He lowered his cigarette to the table and ground it out in the ashtray. His cold disposition remained intact until he straightened himself and looked down at the cake. Without resistance, he allowed himself to smirk. Then, in one smooth, continuous breath, he blew out all twenty candles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a clarification, the moment between seungmin and minho were part of the past, meaning it was a throwback. then the last part wherein it was jisung's birthday was the present one.
> 
> the upcoming chapters will be focusing on the new skz otp!! so don't miss them out!
> 
> and as always, thank you so much for reading! :))


	11. you build a house of cards but it's gonna fall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is an introduction chapter for our new characters hyunjin and seungmin!! hope you like it! :))

Hyunjin woke up to the noise he heard from the kitchen. Even though he knew who caused the source of the noise, he was curious to find out what was up in the kitchen, so then he rose up and started to walk like a zombie. 

It was a real quick finding his gaze at the kitchen. His room mate looked like something out of a futuristic sci-fi movie, all metal and modern lines, with a really large sound system hooked up on the metal island in the middle of the wood flooring. He peered into cabinets trying to find what he needed, feeling rather voyeuristic as he witnessed rows of identical shot glasses, crystal plates which probably cost more than his last earnings, and a fridge filled with bizarre things.

He chuckled internally at his own playful thoughts.

Well, he was just exaggerating, though the truth was that he only prepared rice, soup, meat, and a full array of side dishes for their dinner. He knew he slept for so long after noticing the dark night sky from outside the window.

Despite the fact that Hyunjin was older between them, his roommate knew how to make about various things in the kitchen–unlike him who only relies to fast food deliveries and foods with preservatives everytime he felt lazy. 

He was just cutting the squid into thin bite size strips when Hyunjin walked closer and wrapped his arms about the other's waist and buried his face on his shoulder.

" _'Morning'_ sleepyhead." he greeted sarcastically.

"Morning, my personal chef." Hyunjin murmured with a smile, obviously not in the mood for any sarcastic shits right now. 

Bringing the topic back to him, his full name was Hwang Hyunjin. He was from Seongnae-dong, but moved to another city with his parents in 2012. His family wasn't rich, but wasn't poor either. Almost three years ago, he'd moved into his own apartment.

Other than dancing, he'd always had a passion for gaming, ever since his first console: a PlayStation 2 he got on his fourth birthday. He wanted to be known. He wanted people to know about his life—his habits. Making friends offline was difficult. So three years ago, right on his birthday, he finally made himself a YouTube channel. The first thing he did was start a vlog. He picked the username "Hyuncam". In retrospect, he wished he could explain why, but it was a spur of the moment decision.

The vlog was slow-going, of course, until he made a Twitch channel under the same name a few months later. There, he started showing off his speed-thunderous skills in various video games. He hadn't expected much to come of it; it'd only been an experiment, to kill time. Yet, more and more people became interested in his content. As a result, he seemed to grow better at speed-running harder games. At last, he was starting to build up a reputation.

It was through Twitch that Hyunjin met a casual dandy gamer called Seungamer. He later learned that his true full name was Kim Seungmin, but he went by "Min" online for privacy's sake. Seungmin had been streaming his light-hearted playthroughs for four years. As luck would have it, it turned out that they both lived in Seoul. So one day, Hyunjin was a guest on Seungmin's channel. Little did they realize at the time that Hyunjin would soon be there for almost every single episode of his show. It was also streamed on Hyunjin's Twitch channel when he wasn't doing a speed-run, even when he wasn't present (which was rare).

Soon they became such close friends that they decided to rent a house together. Of course, that meant a lot of their fans would see them as a closeted couple, but they didn't mind. It was funny to see some of the corny romantic fanfictions and pictures they made. Besides, he admit it himself that they have chemistry. Hyunjin was a tall yet skinny brunet guy with a long blonde hair who stood at five feet ten inches and athletic because of his dancing hobby. Whereas Seungmin (or "Min", as the fans knew him) was five feet eighty tall, dandy, and has a nice body proportion. The girls of their fanbase thought that meant Hyunjin bottomed and that they were secret lovers. In truth, they were no more than brotherly housemates. They took amusement in it, nonetheless. The house they shared was small and had thin walls, but did have two floors. So at the time, they figured they'd done well for themselves.

Only a few months prior, Hyunjin got invited to join in different e-sports events within the country. Overall, it'd been a fun experience. He got a few new fans from it. What made him happiest of all, though, was that he was finally becoming known. And that what brought him here right at the moment.

Of course, he didn't realize at the time that this would make his life different from the way he used to be.

It was now the 10th of October. He and Seungmin were currently live. They weren't sure what to play today on his show, so they were taking requests. They did this sometimes; the fans seemed to enjoy it.

They broadcasted the show from their basement, which they'd set up to be more of a studio. The black foam pads stuck to the walls for soundproofing did little to that effect, but they left them up anyway. More suggestions came their way, most of which they either weren't in the mood for, or had already played. They held fast to a rule of never playing the same game twice, though they felt they'd have to break it soon enough.

"Castlevania!" suggested someone in the chat.

Hyunjin and his friend exchanged a knowing glance.

"We've already played that, right?" Seungmin asked.

"Yeah," Hyunjin answered with a smile, "we've played them all."

"Ahhh. Come on, guys," Seungmin nagged in a charismatic way. Despite looking like an innocent one, he surely carried his gamer attitude in a confident way. He was really confident, but behind the camera, though, he was a softy one. He had a thick, pretty voice. Hyunjin liked it, since his wasn't as thick as Seungmin's. "It's going to be Halloween in three weeks! Let's get the spook on, huh?"

They got a flood of game names from various people in chat: "Slender!" "FNAF." "Sister's Location!" "Sara Is Missing." "Undertale?" "Outlast." "Amnesia?" "How about Dashing Cat?"

"Whoa." Seungmin widen his eyes in mock surrender. "You're recommending _that_ trash?"

Hyunjin looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Someone told us to play Dashing Cat." The dandy guy let out a half-suppressed laugh. "For one, that's a kids' game. Second, some streamers are playing it and making it into some sort of running gag for the spook factor." He then shrugged in a dismissive way. "They're all inactive now. Guess they realized it wasn't a funny joke."

Hyunjin stopped. "What do you mean?"

Noticing Hyunjin's confusion, Seungmin raised his brows. "You've never heard? Everyone says that any streamer who plays it dies on camera if they play it wrong, goes missing if they don't. It's stupid."

Hyunjin had never been a very superstitious person, so he raised his brows also. "Well," he quipped, "you _did_ ask for something 'spooky'."

"How about this?" The dandy guy turned back to the camera. "I'm not touching that children's game with a ten-foot-pole, but if Hyunjin agrees, _he'll_ play it while I watch. _Just_ so we can debunk this corny creepypasta trend." He looked at Hyunjin again. "You game?"

Hyunjin nodded. "Sure." He figured, what's the worst that could happen? It's only some awful children's game that everyone likes to _pretend_ is scary.

It wasn't easy to scare him, and he wasn't one to take challenges lightly. So they followed the viewer's advice of where to download the game, which led them to IndieDB, of all sites.

_At least it's not GameJolt_ , Hyunjin thought, though he proceeded to laugh at the thumbnail for the game.

"Good page," he commented in a sarcastic way, trying to hold back his chuckles. "Ten out of ten in execution. Is that _Comic Sans_?" It wasn't, but it looked similar. As the archive downloaded, they looked at some of the screenshots.

"Oh, man," remarked Seungmin as he playfully elbowed his partner. "RPG Maker VX Ace _and_ shitty custom sprites. We're in for a treat, Hyunjin. Are you ready to get your _meme_ on?"

"Oh, Jesus," Hyunjin groaned through a vacant smirk. "Just bring them on. I don't care."

A few viewers in the chat got pissy, so Seungmin announced, "Okay, a disclaimer here before you guys want our heads on sticks: we're not usually this negative about indie games. But..." He gestured at the screen. "Come on. You can't defend this. It's like a badly written creepypasta."

"It's hard not to judge a game by its cover," Hyunjin added, "when the cover uses flat MS Paint pink and pseudo-Comic Sans."

The two shared a laugh at the expense of the game's poor visuals.

"I mean, in its defense, Seungmin, it _is_ a kids' game."

"That's no excuse," said the younger guy. "You don't get to make something terrible just because it's for kids."

The download only had a few more seconds to go. As Seungmin thanked the viewers for waiting, Hyunjin skimmed the game's description.

"Go on an adventure with _Dash_ ," it read, "the cat who _loves_ children!"

_Bet he's a pedophile._

"Learn what it means to feel _'LOVE'_ with your new pal. He'll always be by your side! But be careful what you say, and make sure you _NEVER_ lie, because Dash _hates_ liars."

It was a weird, brief description that wasn't even well-written. There was nothing else there, either. No features, no news, no instructions. Nothing. Hyunjin had to admit to himself that it was sort of eerie.

"Who made this?" he asked openly, but then he saw the link to the creator's profile. It wasn't a surprise to find it empty.

"God knows," Seungmin answered, "but he's a poor guy, whoever he is. I bet he's some lonely old man who lost his kids or something."

Hyunjin shot the younger a playful-yet-scolding look. "No need to depress everybody."

Finally, they got the game extracted. The executable's icon was the sprite head of Dash: an orange with white-furred cat with squinty eyes. He only recognized it due to the bad cover and screenshots.

"I'm going to assume I start it now. Are we ready?"

Seungmin only shrugged, so he took that as a yes and started the game. What greeted them was Dash's face as the background of the title screen. The title itself was not written, but in its default position at bottom-center of the screen sat the menu.

"This is weird," muttered Hyunjin.

Seungmin laughed. "You walnut hyung. Maybe you should turn on screen capture so the audience can see it, too."

Hyunjin felt as though marbles were whizzing about inside his brain. "Well, man," he groaned. "I was going to. Be patient, you dick." Though, he hadn't realized that the screen capture wasn't already started. Seungmin's cocky smirk in response showed that he knew.

Without further delay, Hyunjin selected the game in their broadcaster and resized for the audience. Some of their chat went wild, though that part seemed to have mixed emotions. Half of them were ecstatic to see someone new playing the game. The other half were begging them not to do it. Of course, as realistic as they were, they ignored the latter half.

Seungmin and Hyunjin were both kind of amused to what the viewers were telling about them. But that didn't made Hyunjin threatened, in fact, he became more excited.

"Come on, guys," teased Hyunjin, "stop worrying so much. It'll be fine!"

Little did Hyunjin realize how wrong he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! :>>


	12. you're coming too far, suddenly none of this is a game anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter twelve everyone!

When the game started, it seemed innocent enough. The first thing that greeted them was the sight of an audience of kids looking at a stage. Then, with a drum roll and a cymbal crash, from behind the curtains came Dash.

"Heya, kids!" the half man, half cat exclaimed, surprising the two streamers with voiceover. His voice somehow had a Doraemon-like voice, which they had to admit was a tad bit unexpected. "Uncle Dash here!"

Applause, presumably from the kids, broke out. Hyunjin and Seungmin took the pause to give each other a mutual look of bewilderment. Neither of them were knew what to say, but somehow, they were both disappointed and intrigued.

"So glad you could all make it today," continued the cat, "because I've got something special planned!"

"That would be a nightmare," said Seungmin.

Hyunjin looked at his friend. "What do you mean?"

"Being there, even as a kid. If it were real, you know. I mean, picture it: you're four or five years old, sitting around, minding your own business, when in storms _that_ _dickhead_."

Dash continued unfazed, of course, as he couldn't hear their conversation. "That's right, today one lucky kiddo will join me on an adventure about 'love'!"

During another brief applause break, Hyunjin asked, his eyes never leave the screen, "I don't know, don't you think this is somehow _unsettling_?"

"I'll only need one brave little ankle-biter. Anyone?" the cat intruded. Then in an instant, nothing happened.

"Did the game freeze?" Seungmin laughed in amusement.

"Am I.... supposed to do something?" Hyunjin questioned. Curious, he pressed the right arrow key. Sure enough, the game resumed with Dash stepping closer to the audience.

"You!" the cat exclaimed, making Hyunjin jolted, both of his eyebrows were being raised while doing it so, "How about you? Are you a guy or a gal?" A prompt followed with two options: "guy" or "gal".

"Well," Hyunjin joked confidently, "last time I checked, I was a guy."

"You sure about that?" Seungmin quipped, his eyes looking at Hyunjin with a smile.

"Bite me," the older guy countered in a playful voice. He picked "guy", and after another brief pause—"God, what terrible load times. Do RPG Maker games even _need_ to load anything?"—out of the audience stepped a sprite of a boy. To Hyunjin's surprise, it had his hair color.

"Wow, what are the odds of that?" inquired Seungmin with an amused voice. "The male character's got white hair like you."

"It's _blonde_ , asshole."

"Whatever you say, oldie." Though the two streamers often insulted each other, they always did so while fighting off with their genuine smiles. This playful banter was no exception.

"Do you two always rag on each other?" asked someone in chat.

"Yeah," Hyunjin admitted to the microphone. Right there, he wrapped his arm over Seungmin and laid his head on the man's broad shoulder. Then, in a delicate voice, he sung, "Your mother is a whore."

"Your father is an asshole, then."

Again, the two of them shared a laugh even though they had no clue why they were being playful like this. When they brought their attention back to the game, they realized that Hyunjin was now on the stage beside Dash.

The cat asked, "What's your name, kiddo?" Another prompt appeared, this time with text input. Seungmin started to giggle, which caused Hyunjin to look at him.

"What? Do you have an idea?"

The dandy guy struggled to speak between snickers, but soon managed to say, "Enter "Assbanana", 'A-S-S-B-A-N-A-N-A'."

As Hyunjin laughed loudly, he stated, "What the hell Seungmin!"

His friend laughed as well. "Do it," he begged, "just do it."

Hyunjin obligued, entering the word.

"Cheers!" replied Dash, cheery as ever.

Both of them burst into hysterics, kicking their feet and slapping their hands together like a seal. Hyunjin leaned his head over Seungmin shoulder while laughing. 

"Oh my God!" cried the younger. "I can't believe it let you _use_ that!"

"He seemed to like that name though!"

While both of them—and most of the chat—laughed, Dash remarked, "I'm gonna call you 'Hunnie', though, okay?"

"A pervert uncle, indeed." Seungmin remarked, still in the verge of smiling. 

"Okay, okay," Hyunjin said through a happy exhale. "We should be serious!"

"If you insist," Seungmin snarked.

Getting back on track, Hyunjin allowed Dash to progress. The cat's next words were: "This might get sort of complicated, but I have bad memory. What month were you born in?" Yet another prompt. This one read "Jan" and had arrows to scroll. So, Hyunjin moved the cursor when he found "Mar".

"Eeey," Dash squealed, "A good month to start spring festivals! Now, Hunnie, what's the day you were born on?" The prompt started at "00". Without warning, Hyunjin felt curious.

"Let's see how well-coded this is," he proposed. Then, he accepted the prompt without doing anything, telling the game that he was born on March 0.

"Wait, that can't be right," Dash realized. So he asked his question again.

"Try April 31st," Seungmin instructed.

"Why the 31st?"

"Because there's no such thing as April 31st."

"There isn't?"

Seungmin stared at Hyunjin like he was an idiot. So Hyunjin pretended that he hadn't said anything and bring back the month. He entered the suggested date and the response was the same.

"At least it's not _totally_ stupid," the younger then remarked.

Satisfied, Hyunjin told the truth, answering "March 20th".

"Happy D-day!" Dash sung as a speech bubble with a music note appeared over his head for a moment. Hyunjin raised his brow, but didn't have long to ponder before the cat asked, "Finally, what's your birth year?"

Hyunjin snickered. "I'm old." With that, he answered "1900". The answer was actually 2000, but where was the fun in answering in earnest?

"How old does that make you, then?" When only two digits showed up, Hyunjin realized his mistake.

"Oh, shit."

"You messed up," Seungmin teased in sing-song.

"Gonna have to answer 'zero', then..." With reluctance, Hyunjin accepted the prompt without changing it.

Disheveled all at once, the cat complained, "That's wrong. I'll let it slide for now, though." Right as it seemed like the game was finally going to start, though, an exclamation point appeared above his head. He looked back at the audience. "Far out! It seems you've got a mate! Can't leave them out of this, can we?"

Hyunjin looked at Seungmin with his sudden wide eyes, who obviously looked back at him. The chat appeared surprised by this, as if it wasn't a regular part of the game. It hadn't said anywhere that the game could even _be_ two-player...

_What's going on?_ Hyunjin wondered. _Did we download some sort of new version?_

From the audience, a black-haired boy stepped up onto the stage.

_"Oh..."_ Seungmin groaned in discomfort. "Okay. I'll admit it: _that_ is a little weird."

"I'm going to call your friend 'Buttons'," declared Dash. Then, he looked again at the audience and announced, "All right, everyone, wish Hunnie and I luck! Our adventure begins now!" As the audience applauded once more, the three sprites walked in caterpillar fashion to the curtain, which they disappeared behind. The screen faded out.

"So..." Hyunjin mumbled, his eyes scanning the screen momentarily, "that happened..." 

The chat was going wild. The half that wanted them to not play the game was now more vocal than ever. Some of them were even screaming in all-caps to "QUIT THE GAME NOW". But the two streamers outright ignored these messages.

Several long seconds passed. Nothing happened. The game remained only a black screen. After realizing that he and Seungmin were dead silent waiting for something to happen, Hyunjin finally asked, "Uhhh, really? Is that _it?"_

The chat seemed to think otherwise. Those who'd seen other streamers play the game mentioned they'd only ever seen one character go with Dash, and that there was supposed to be more.

"You're supposed to be in front of Dash's house right now," one of them said, "or something like that."

"Try opening the menu," Seungmin suggested. "Maybe they forgot to make the map event auto-run."

Hyunjin pressed the "X" key on his keyboard, hoping the menu would open, but it didn't. He then remarked, "When in doubt..." and began pressing every letter key, then Alt, Ctrl, Esc. When none of them did anything, he tried clicking. Still nothing. Checking the Task Manager revealed that the game did, in fact, appear to have hung—both its CPU and Memory Usage numbers were frozen.

"Oh great! Good game." Seungmin griped in sarcasm.

"Looks like the game is a bitch," someone in the chat wrote, following this up with a kappa emoji. Hyunjin gave it a small chuff of amusement, but nothing more.

"That sucks," the guy commented. "I mean, I wasn't getting into it yet, but I could've got there."

"We were running out of time anyway," Seungmin pointed out. Hyunjin looked at the clock and saw that it was almost three in the morning—the time at which they stopped streaming.

"Ahh."

Since there was nothing else to do and they were short on time, they decided to bid their audience goodnight. Then they went offline. Hyunjin leaned back in his chair with a weary sigh. Seungmin examined the still-open game window and scratched his head.

"How odd," he muttered. "I've seen a lot of stupid things happen with these sorts of games, but I've never seen one hang like this."

"At least," Hyunjin added, "not on purpose."

"An intentional softlock? What does that solve?"

"I don't know."

Seungmin shook his head and closed the game. "How weird is it that there was a friend, though? The chat said that was unusual."

"Yeah, it was pretty strange." Hyunjin yawned and stretched as Seungmin stood up.

As the younger guy made his way to the door that led to the basement stairs, he asked, "I'm starving, what about you?"

-

A few minutes later, the two of them were standing in the kitchen. As they leaned across from each other against the counter and ate sandwiches, Hyunjin pointed out, "You seem okay with this."

Seungmin looked at him and swallowed the bite of sandwich he held. He didn't seem to be aware of what Hyunjin meant. So, looking at his sandwich, he replied, "I don't mind bologna."

"No, stupid, the game."

The younger's dark puppy eyes lit up with recognition, but he only shrugged. "Why shouldn't I be?"

"I mean...." Seungmin bit into his sandwich as Hyunjin spoke,"...the whole thing with the sprites and the friend. It's almost like the game knew that there were two of us—knew what we _look_ like. You don't find that..." He looked for the right word for what he was thinking of, having to take a moment to find it. "... _Unsettling?"_

Seungmin, still chewing, shook his head.

"Why not?"

Once his mouth was clear, he answered, "It's a coincidence. Here's my opinion." He put his half-eaten sandwich down on a plate on the counter so he could use his hands as he spoke. "I think they updated the game. Whoever made it hasn't noticed yet that they broke the map transition somehow."

"But why add a new character? That sounds like a bad writing choice to me."

"Beats me."

"And what are the odds of them having our hair colors?"

"We're not the only people in the world with white and black"—Seungmin caught himself—"sorry, black and _blonde_ hair. Besides, those colors go well together on characters. I wouldn't think too hard about it." He picked his food back up. "Don't lose sleep over it."

Hyunjin hummed in response and nibbled at his own sandwich. Whatever the case, even Seungmin's explanation didn't soothe him.

_Something about that game felt off to me somehow... I don't trust it. It's crazy, but I can't help but feel like there's something evil about it._

"You know, Hyunjin. If I didn't know any better, I'd say it creeped you out."

Hyunjin looked up. "No, that's not it. It confused me, that's all."

"Oh," Seungmin hummed with thick sarcasm.

Hyunjin dramatically clutched his hair. "Ahhh! No fucking way! How could _that_ have creeped me out? I've speed-run _Amnesia_ four times!"

The younger smirked. "Sure, sure. I'll make sure not to show you any cats, _Assbanana_."

"Oh, eat a dick," Hyunjin rolled his eyes and groans.

_He's got to be right, though. Everyone's hyping the game into something it's not. Everything'll be fine. The sprites were only a coincidence. Man, how stupid would it be if a bad kids' game actually_ scared _me? Ha!_

That night, Hyunjin slept in his own bedroom like any normal night. He refused to let the idea of Dashing Cat terrorize him through the night, so it didn't.

_I'll wake up_ , he'd thought as he got into bed, _and everything will be back to normal. It'll be as if we never played that awful game._

But at around ten in the morning, he was awoken by a knock on his bedroom door. It confused him to the point where he at first thought he'd only imagined it. As he laid his head back down, though, he heard it again.

_Seungmin? What's he doing? He never knocks..._

Still groggy, he perched himself up with his elbow and blindly reached for his cellphone. They were on the bedside table, right where he'd left them. "Yeah?" he called out.

The door opened. In stepped Seungmin, looking a bit disheveled. "Hyunjin." He sounded deadly serious, if not somewhat frightened.

Hyunjin muscles tensed at the unusual tone, then he jumped out of bed. "What is it? Is something wrong?"

For a beat, Seungmin said nothing. When he finally did speak, all he said was, "You need to see this."

That was all Hyunjin needed to hear. He followed Seungmin down to the first floor. They headed into the basement together, where Seungmin opened the door and walked into their recording area.

"When I came downstairs to start editing the footage from last night, it was like this. I got you immediately. Haven't touched it."

"What are you talking about?"

Seungmin gestured to the computer in response. Though uncertain, Hyunjin approached it. He looked at the screen; it was easy for him to see what had startled Seungmin, because it startled him, too.

The only open window was Dashing Cat. In the game, the cat was standing in a living room-type area with the two character sprites in front of him. His text box read, "Rise and shine! It's time to start our adventure!"

Hyunjin gasped. "Holy shit!"

"You don't know the half of it," Seungmin exclaimed. He pointed at the camera they used to stream themselves. Its activity light was on. "Hyunjin, we're _live_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update. been busy these past few days but still,, thanks for reading!! ><


	13. even when you're nowhere in the room, i'm haunted by you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update for this day, everyone! enjoy!

Hyunjin couldn't believe it. _This has to be some sort of prank_ , he thought, but then he looked again at Seungmin. The younger guy didn't have much of a poker face—when he felt something, it was obvious. Written across his face now was either uncertainty or fear. He was serious about having found the computer like this.

"We turned it off last night, didn't we?" he asked as Hyunjin stared at him.

The older guy was slow in shaking his head. "I don't think so."

"Right..." Then he looked back at the screen. The game was still open, front and center. "But we closed the game, right?"

"I'm certain we did."

Seungmin shook his head clear and began addressing the audience. "Sorry for coming online at such an odd time, guys. I don't know how this happened." He stepped closer to the computer, reaching for the mouse, but Hyunjin grabbed his rolled-up sleeve to stop him.

"Wait," ordered the older one. "Don't."

"Why not?"

Hyunjin nodded his chin toward the game. "Maybe it's supposed to do this. Maybe this is how we play."

"Are you kidding? Any program that auto-starts our livestream is no friend of mine. Who knows how long we've been online?"

"Min,"—Remembering that they were live, Hyunjin stopped himself and started over. "we owe it to the audience after last night. If the game pulled itself out of a softlock, then we might as well give it one last shot, right?"

Seungmin huffed and stared at Hyunjin. He didn't look pleased, but after a few seconds, he sighed. After throwing his hands up in mild exasperation, he conceded, "Fine, if you say so."

In truth, Hyunjin was curious. Something about the game, despite its innocent appearance, had managed to rattle him. In a morbid way, he was interested to see what would come of it. Would it be as horrifying as the chat warned, or would it be nothing more than what it looked to be?

_If we don't continue now, then I'll never know. I need to satisfy my curiosity._

He sat down in the chair closest to the screen and Seungmin sat in the chair next to it. Both were rolling office chairs, though they sometimes had trouble moving on the carpet. They took a moment to update their Twitter accounts, letting people know they were live. Then they waited a bit for people to join into the stream. Meanwhile, they watched the chat.

Someone alerted them that the stream had only been live for about five minutes before Seungmin first came downstairs. It took a second for them to realize that could be true. The camera would've been on to show the audience Seungmin's first appearance of the day.

"That's no coincidence," Hyunjin pointed out. "Only five minutes? It's almost like the game _knew_ that you were about to come downstairs."

_"_ If and if, my ass was sharp," countered Seungmin. "Besides, don't most guys like us wake up right about now?"

"That's being generous..."

There came a polarity in the chat: some were eager for Hyunjin to continue playing, the rest annoyed by the sudden stream. Seungmin apologized to them a few times, then stopped paying attention altogether. Once they'd reached a decent number of viewers, he glanced at Hyunjin.

"You ready?" he asked.

"Yeah," Hyunjin replied in a casual way. "Let's do this." He pressed the "Z" key to progress the game.

"I hope you're excited for our adventure!" exclaimed Dash. "Your friend, too. Are you ready to begin?" A prompt showed up, but its only option was "Yes".

"Guess I don't have a whole lot of choices," Hyunjin joked as he confirmed the prompt.

"Great! I'm so eager to play with you."

...Then the game hung again.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding me," griped Seungmin.

"Well, at least the game's not stuck on a black screen this time," Hyunjin mumbled as he tried different keys on the keyboard. Whatever key he pressed, it didn't matter. The game was again unresponsive.

"I don't even care. I for one say we should give up on this thing. If it's going to make us wait twenty-four hours for ten seconds of playtime, then it's nothing but a waste of time."

Hyunjin wanted to fight back, but Seungmin had a point. They hadn't been playing for too long, anyway. "Fine, I guess you're right."

Seungmin took the mouse and went to exit the game. It closed, but after a second, startled them by reopening and returning to where it was.

"Don't," ordered Dash.

Seungmin and Hyunjin shared a look, eyebrows raised. Was this happening? Hyunjin tried to progress the game, but again it hung, this time with the text box open. So Seungmin closed the game again, only for it to restart in exactly the same way.

"Be patient."

When Seungmin disobeyed, closing the game again, it didn't reopen. "What a hassle."

"Yeah," Hyunjin murmured, "you could say that again..."

To make up for gathering viewers, the two of them decided to play something else for a while. When they finished, Hyunjin returned upstairs while Seungmin began editing the recordings. Hyunjin was lounging on the living room couch, surfing his Twitter feed, when Seungmin stormed up to the kitchen. He watched in silence as he aggressively poured himself a glass of orange juice.

"What happened?" he questioned as Seungmin chugged the drink.

The younger slammed the glass down and exhaled, then turned to look at Hyunjin. "The game's open again."

Hyunjin sat up. "What?"

"Yeah. Found out too why that was the only thing open this morning. Could've sworn I'd left Chrome open. Turns out this fucker closes everything that's running when it restarts."

"Ah, so..."

_"_ Yeah, well. Guess who lost half an hour of editing." Seungmin poured himself another glass. In a voice dripping with false assurance, he insisted, "It's fine, though. _Totally_ fine. I'm not even mad."

"Sorry."

"It also does jumpstart the stream."

"We're live?"

"Right now, yeah." Seungmin gestured toward the basement stairs. "Are we going to keep them waiting, or are we going to keep playing this stupid game?"

That was all it took to get Hyunjin to head back downstairs. Nothing was going on in-game, but when Hyunjin pressed one of the arrow keys, he was finally able to move his character. Upon discovering this, he took his seat. Seungmin sat beside him as usual, holding a cup full of juice. Hyunjin was about to start, but his eyes caught on the chat.

"Eh... What are they talking about?" he asked Seungmin. The younger leaned forward to see the chat better.

"That's so creepy!" some of them said. "What was that?" asked others

"No clue," Seungmin answered Hyunjin's question. Soon, someone in the chat returned an answer.

"While you were away, Dash said, 'Oh no, where has Buttons gone?' It disappeared right before you guys showed up."

"Bullshit," Seungmin laughed it off. Hyunjin, on the other hand, found himself taking it seriously, though he said nothing.

Interacting with Dash resulted in another question and prompt. "Hunnie, where are you from?" When Hyunjin answered "Seoul", the cat asked, "Is that so, mate? Well, if you say so..."

"I mean, I am," Hyunjin muttered, "but whatever. Not sure why it would doubt that."

"It could mean where we are right now," Seungmin reasoned. "Then again, not sure how it would know the answer."

Hyunjin opened the menu. Instead of the regular character-based menu, it was only a list of commands in a centered box. There was an option called 'Knowledge' that attracted his attention.

"I wonder what this is." He selected the option.

'Knowledge' led to a string of textboxes about what Dash knew of him. "Dash knows your name: Assbanana."

Seungmin snickered.

"Dash knows your gender: guy." "Dash knows your birthday: March 20, 1900." "Dash knows that your birthday falls on a _D-day_."

"What does that even mean?" Hyunjin questioned. "My birthday is on a 'D-day'? What's a D-day?"

"The end of the world," offered someone in the chat. "It can be doomsday, but since you're birthday wasn't pointed on the doomsday, it can have different meaning."

Hyunjin answered like he was talking to that someone in the chat, "Yeah, but there's only _one_ doomsday, and it can't be predicted. It doesn't really make sense..." He shrugged at that.

After a moment's thought, though, his friend's face beside him seemed to pale. His face fell into a tense frown.

"Min? What's the matter?"

He jolted at the sound of Hyunjin's voice, shooting him a rather troubled look. "Nothing," he said. "Never mind me. Let's see the next text box." With a shaky hand, he raised his glass to his lips and drank. Hyunjin decided to let it drop, at least for the time being, but not without reluctance.

"Dash knows that you are 118 years old (give or take one year)." "Dash knows that you have a friend." "Dash knows that you live in the Seoul."

"Okay," Seungmin remarked, "I guess it does know somehow?"

"I told it that earlier, though," Hyunjin pointed out. "How would it know that all by itself? It's an RPG Maker game. It's not like it can read our IP address or anything."

"Dash knows that you live in Samseong-dong."

Hyunjin tensed at the sight of the name of the city they both currently lived in. "All right.... Seems I spoke too soon."

"What the fuck is this?" Seungmin hissed under his breath.

"You have lied to Dash 3 times," read the final textbox.

Someone in the chat pointed out some things that made Hyunjin look again at the counter's current number. "Wait," he said. "Seungmin, we've only lied to it twice. Why does it say three?"

Seungmin paused in thought before answering, "I mean, 'Assbanana' isn't your name."

"How would it know that?"

That response silenced Seungmin. The younger shrugged again. "Haven't we only lied to it once?"

"No, we lied about me being born in 1900."

"Oh, yeah. Right. Didn't we lie three times, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"It asked for your age."

"But it _only_ reacted to my age. I don't think it even registered my birth year being weird."

"Fair enough."

"Hunnie," Dash said, "don't ignore me."

Hyunjin tried to leave the map through the doorway at the bottom, but nothing happened. He tried using the "Z" key to interact with it, but that didn't help either.

"How do I get out of here?" he inquired.

"The door should've opened when you stepped on that tile..." someone in the chat answered.

"Oh, great." Seungmin huffed. "Another softlock?"

"Sorry, Hunnie," Dash griped without warning. "I feel like you're not ready to take this adventure seriously. So we're going to backtrack a bit first. Let's talk about your friend."

"For fuck's sake," Seungmin cursed, impatient.

"How much do you love Seungmin?"

Both streamers froze. Hyunjin stared at the textbox. It read "Buttons", but he could've sworn the voiceover had said "Seungmin".

"Did it say 'Seungmin'," Seungmin, incredulous, asked, "or am I going crazy?"

"No, I heard it too," Hyunjin assured.

"What the hell?"

The prompt under the textbox had four options: "More than anything!", "A lot!", "So-so.", and "Not a bit."

"Should I..." Hyunjin hesitated. "Should I answer this?"

"I guess you have to," Seungmin surrendered.

Hyunjin gazed at his options. "I mean, you're my best friend, so I feel like I should pick the top one."

"Then again," Seungmin observed, "this seems to be a 'love' question. Like, _love_. We're friends, so 'a lot' is more suitable, right?"

"I guess so..." Following that logic, Hyunjin selected the second option: "A lot!"

"Is that so?" Dash questioned. "So you'd be able to live without him?"

"What kind of question is that?" Hyunjin asked loudly. 

"Whatever you say," concluded Dash. "I'll test you on that later. In the meantime, I have another question."

"What else could it possibly want to know?"

"When's Buttons' birthday?"

Seungmin sat up straight in his chair. "Close it."

"Huh? Why? I mean, I'm curious, too. You've never told me..."

Two prompts showed up: "His birthday is..." and "I refuse!"

"Let's answer, all right? We might be able to continue after that–"

"No, trust me, Hyunjin. Close it."

"Min..."

"Move over." Seungmin bumped his chair against Hyunjin's, causing it to shift away from the keyboard. Taking control of the game himself, he pressed down on the arrow keys and selected "I refuse!"

"Figured as much," Dash grumbled. "Friends shouldn't keep secrets, Buttons. If you really loved me, you'd tell me."

"How about I tell you to go fuck yourself, you little piece of shit?" the younger guy snarled. He pressed Alt and F4 together, closing the game. When it didn't reopen, he shook his head in distaste. "Good riddance. Now can we delete this thing?"

"Eh, yeah, I-I guess... Are you okay?" Hyunjin had to admit it. He had never seen Seungmin _this_ angry for many years. Yeah sure he got angry even once, but everytime he did he'll just get silent and after that, everything will be back to normal.

Seungmin only grunted in response as he moved the game's folder into the recycle bin. He then emptied it, deleting the game from their computer altogether. Thinking that was the end of that, the two streamers bid the audience farewell once more and returned to what they were doing beforehand. Even though Seungmin remained downstairs this time, Hyunjin found it near-impossible to relax. All he could think about was how the cat had told him it would "test" him on his response. He worried that picking the second option opposed to the first was a mistake.

_No_ , he thought to himself, _come on. The game's deleted. It's over and I'll never know what it meant._

But he was still agitated. Something in his gut told him that his "adventure" with Dash was far from over.

_Why had it taken such an interest in Seungmin's birthday? Better yet, why's he never even told me when it is? Why did he get so agitated when it asked for it?_

He had no answers, thus no choice but to ignore everything. Nothing else _could_ happen... right?

-

3:47 AM. Hyunjin sat on the staircase to the second floor, watching the clock on his phone as it rolled over to 3:48. Then, he sighed and glanced down toward the kitchen. The days leading up to now had been normal. It was like they'd never played Dashing Cat at all. Whenever anyone mentioned it, they ignored them. But now, Hyunjin was doing his most peculiar of annual routines. From 3:30 to 4:30 AM, on the morning of October 24, Seungmin would always do the same thing: he'd get up out of bed, walk downstairs, pull out a secret bottle of wine from a high-up shelf, pour himself a glass and sit in the kitchen.

This was only Hyunjin's second time watching him from the staircase, but he knew it was a recurring event. After all, it was always the same wine bottle. The first time he'd seen it, it was half-full. If Seungmin only drank a half a glass' worth every time and left the rest for the next year, he must've been doing so for four or five years at least.

In most aspects, Hyunjin felt confident that he knew Seungmin rather well. When it came to this, though, he had to admit that he was baffled.

_He always seems so happy and carefree_ , he thought to himself this time, as Seungmin let out a sad sigh in the other room. _Yet, here he is, battling some demons I don't know about. What troubles him that only does so one hour of the year? And at such an odd time?_

It was always 3:30 to 4:30 in the morning, always reaching its peak at 3:50. At that point, Seungmin would laid his head down on his arms and, Hyunjin assumed, cry in silence.

_Speaking of..._

Hyunjin glanced at his phone's screen in time to see it tick over to 3:50. He then leaned over on the stairs to get a better view into the kitchen. From here he could see Seungmin's back. As expected, he'd hunched over the table and no longer made any audible sounds.

The older of them let out a quiet huff of his own and straightened himself. Without knowing anything, there wasn't much he could do to help. At the same time, though, he didn't want to invade Seungmin's privacy during what seemed to be an intimate moment.

_It's only during this hour that I realize how little I know about him—what his life was like before me._

As he sat there, he found himself in the midst of an internal debate. Seungmin would be fine later, that much he knew. His concern was that his happiness was a mere ruse—a mask to hide his worries, that had now temporarily slipped. If he was going to get to the bottom of this, he'd have to reach out to him now, before this moment of weakness passed again.

_I should leave him alone, but... I can't bear to sleep knowing he's so sad and alone like this._

He made sure to be quiet as he stood up on the stairs. Then, he walked down to the first floor. Though now able to see the whole kitchen from the foot of the stairs, he looked only at Seungmin. The younger hadn't stirred, not having heard him. Hyunjin stepped closer and stood in the doorway. From there he could hear the man take a troubled breath, muffled behind his arms.

"Seungmin," said the older guy in a sincere, steadied voice. The sound made Seungmin whip his head up. His hands shot to his eyes, rubbing them.

"Hyunjin," he responded on a sad laugh. When he lowered his hands, he revealed that his eyelids were a bit puffy and reddened. "I didn't know you were awake. How long have you been there?"

"Long enough." Hyunjin stepped further into the kitchen, taking a seat at the small table, across from his friend. The glass on the table was only a quarter full. "What's the matter?"

Seungmin shrugged, unable to keep his eyes off of the table. "I couldn't sleep," he lied.

Hyunjin leaned closer. This made the younger straighten himself in his seat, expression a tad standoff-ish. "I know something's wrong, Seungmin. You never cry."

"Well, that's not true. I cried at the end of—"

"You know what I mean."

The younger looked like he wanted to argue, but then he closed his mouth and lowered his gaze back to the table.

"I don't want to pry. I'll leave you alone if you want, but... I'm worried about you. You can talk to me if you want to get something off your chest."

Seungmin gave his head a gentle shake. He was silent in picking up the wine glass, but instead of drinking from it, he sloshed the wine inside. For a few seconds, they were both silent and still, the only movement coming from the wine as it tried to settle again. Seungmin kept his dark eyes locked on the red liquid, Hyunjin's sharp on Seungmin's face. It was hard to define his facial expression, with sad eyes and the smallest of bitter smiles on his thin lips.

_He won't talk. Didn't think he would._

Hyunjin sighed and prepared to stand up. "Look, I'll leave you—"

"I knew a guy once."

The words were sudden and they caught Hyunjin's attention. He shifted to sit back down. Noticing this, Seungmin resumed gazing down into his glass.

"His name was..." He shook his head. "No, his name's not important. All you need to know is that we were dormmates for about two years. Friends, even. He was... interesting. We both studied psychology at Seoul National University. He got a bachelor's degree. I wound up dropping out during my second year."

_I never knew you went to college_ , Hyunjin wanted to say, but he bit his tongue. What if interrupting Seungmin caused him to stop talking? He wasn't willing to risk it; this was already more information than he'd ever told him before.

"He had a boyfriend that he used as a case study. His name was Peter; he was always depressed and anti-social. Kept to himself and smoked pot most of the time, but frequented parties. I think my dormmate chose to be in a relationship with him to have an easier time studying his behavior." Seungmin laughed, but it wasn't so much out of pleasure as it was the recollection of a bittersweet memory. "You know, he always used to ask me who _my_ case study was. For the first year or so, I was telling the truth when I told him I didn't have one yet. After that, how was I supposed to tell him it was _him_?-"

"I say he was interesting because, from the viewpoint of a wannabe psychologist, he was. He never said it, but I know he saw himself as a psychopath; no emotional connections, no remorse, narcissistic tendencies, the lot. He always made an effort to keep his distance from people like me—people who wanted to be friends with him. He'd only let them in, if you could even call it that, if they were useful to him. Like Peter." He paused for a beat. "I was never useful in his eyes. But I liked him anyway. I liked that he was happy, that we'd met"—he frowned, still staring at his glass—"that he liked wine. That, he did share with me. We drank together, once. After that, I started watching him a lot closer than before, when he thought I wasn't. I don't mean I stalked him or anything. I only kept an eye on him. Watched his behavior, like he watched Peter's. And you know what?"

Hyunjin said nothing, even when Seungmin finally looked at him. There were tears in the younger's eyes, or was it only the lighting in the room reflecting off of them?

"To this day, I still don't think he was a psychopath. Far from well-adjusted, but not a psychopath. When Peter..." He gulped. "When Peter _died_ , he... Well, he changed. It was subtle; I doubt anyone but me even noticed. But it changed him. It _hurt_ him. I heard him cry, once, when he thought I was asleep. Or maybe he didn't think I was asleep. He always was clever. Maybe it was his way of showing he trusted me." Seungmin looked back at his glass and shook his head again. "I doubt it, though. As much as I wanted him to, he never cared about me. Because I was never useful." Finally, the younger took a sip of his wine.

Hyunjin let his eyes fall onto the table in silence. He wasn't sure what to say. It wasn't until Seungmin put the glass back down that he said, before he could stop himself, "Did you love him?"

Seungmin shot him a weird look, of both offense and uncertainty.

"It's all right, you know, if... if you did. I'm not judging or anything. You seem sad, so, I'm only... assuming."

The stare lasted a few seconds more before Seungmin took a breath. He gazed off at nothing, appearing to contemplate the question. Finally, he answered, "I don't know. Maybe I only liked him, and my heart went and got the wrong idea. Either way... I don't know. Something hurts, for some reason."

"Why don't you reach out to him?"

The younger let out the same bittersweet laugh and once again rocked his head from side to side. "No," he lamented, "he wouldn't want to see me again. I don't even think he still remembers me."

"Do you know where he is now?"

He shrugged. "Far as I can tell, he's a painter and dancer. I guess he's still in the city. Might not be, though." Then he took another deep breath. "But, you know what?"

"What?"

"He did have this... one thing that he liked. It was unusual. Peculiar."

Hyunjin leaned closer against the table, tilting his head in intrigue. "Yeah?"

"I was reminded of it by, well, that stupid game we played earlier this month."

"You mean Dashing Cat?"

"Yeah. The whole thing with 'd-day' that he kept going on about."

"What about it?"

"Well, my dormmate..." He shrugged. "It's probably a coincidence, but he always used to go on about some sort of 'rule'. The 'Doomsday rule', I think it was, by some... Conway something or other. I never understood it, but he tried to teach it to me several times. It has something to do with certain days in the calendar, which always fall on a certain weekday in certain years, or.... something like that." Again. "I don't know. It was weird. But those days were referred to as 'Doomsdays'. He was always happiest on Doomsdays. He was also interested in knowing everyone's birthday."

Hyunjin took this in. "You don't think..."

"Nah. He never liked video games. I don't think he'd ever play one, much less take part in _making_ one."

For a minute or two, both of them were quiet. Seungmin massaged his tired eyes as Hyunjin digested everything he'd heard. In a matter of minutes, he'd learned so much about his friend. He'd gone to college, studied psychology, had another best friend: a roommate who he was possibly in love with. All things Hyunjin had never known about him before. Out of the blue, he felt guilty.

_How much does he know about my past, anyway? I mean, I don't have anywhere near as much to say, but still. Now doesn't feel like an appropriate time to start talking about myself, though._

When Seungmin stood up, it caught Hyunjin off guard. He held his glass in his hand as he did. "Thanks for letting me get that off my chest. I've had that bottled up for years. Would've driven me mad, sooner or later." Then he walked further into the kitchen. Hyunjin followed him with his eyes.

"You're welcome." he mumbled.

Standing in front of the sink, Seungmin glanced back at him. "No more of this, hmm? It's about time I move on."

Hyunjin nodded, then watched as the younger poured the remainder of his wine down the drain.

"Do you want to drink the rest on the 30th," he began, "or can I dump it, too?"

"Whoa," Hyunjin exclaimed through a chuckle. "No need to be hasty, Seungminnie. Let's not waste money here."

"Waste money?" Seungmin stepped over. With a smirk, he picked up the bottle. "I didn't pay for this. It was my dormmate's."

"Ah." Hyunjin looked at the label. "Would it make you feel better to dump it?"

"Probably." He paced toward the sink again, bottle in hand. "Besides, it's not regular wine."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's _stronger_ than most."

As much as Hyunjin wanted to question that wording, he didn't. Instead, he watched from his chair as the younger tilted the bottle and began emptying the bottle. It glugged and sloshed as it poured down the drain. Once the flow of wine stopped, he shook it a few times to get any last droplets out. Then, he turned to Hyunjin.

"What should we do with the bottle?" he inquired.

"Show it off on stream on the 30th," Hyunjin recommended, "then smash it off the wall or something."

"Brilliant." Seungmin smirked. "I'll have fun with that." He put the bottle down on the table and stretched. "Anyway, I should go to sleep before I pass out. What time is it?"

Hyunjin pulled out his phone and looked at the clock. "4:16."

"Great. I'm beat. You should go back to sleep, too."

"I don't know. I might stay up for a bit."

Seungmin shrugged. "Your choice." He walked to the doorway, but then stopped. He turned back and looked at Hyunjin. In a sincere voice, he then said, " _Thanks_ Hyunj."

With that, Hyunjin smiled. "No problem."

The dandy boy smiled, "Good night."

"Good night."

After that, Seungmin headed upstairs. Hyunjin continued to sit in the kitchen for a few minutes on his own, but ultimately decided to return to his room as well. He'd done what he needed to do: cheer Seungmin up. There was no reason to stay up any longer. When morning came, everything would be back to normal once more. Normal, but better, because now he could he sure that Seungmin's happiness was genuine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys sorry for not being around these past two weeks, i chose to spend my time with my fam this holiday so.. in order for me to make it up to y'all i updated two chapters. then next week we'll be having the minsung moments that all of you (for sure) have been waiting for! thanks for patiently waiting and i hope you enjoy your holiday with your love ones. lovelots!!! <3


	14. i hear you screaming, creeping out of the hunter.

On the 30th of every month, Seungmin and Hyunjin did their monthly "drinking game" stream. They usually took turns playing difficult games and switched when they screwed up. Then they'd take a drink and watch the other play until _they_ screwed up. It was always fun. The people in the chat would often get shitfaced with them.

It was up to Seungmin to buy the alcohol most of the time. This month, though, he found himself wrapped up late in a casual play-through of a game. He wanted to get it done, so when Hyunjin stepped down for a moment, he asked, "If I tell you the name of the place, can you get the drinks this time?"

"Sure," Hyunjin agreed. "I'll use my phone as a GPS."

The younger guy told Hyunjin the location's name and its general area, so he put it into his phone and found it on his GPS. He took his handheld camera with him to the car, setting it on the dashboard as he positioned his phone. Then he strapped himself in and turned on the headlights. It was almost midnight—almost the 30th. Lucky, then, that the store Seungmin bought alcohol from was open into the late hours. He started recording, then started the car as he followed what the GPS is stating.

"Hey, guys," he spoke aloud as he drove. "Hyunj here. I'm making another vlog to show that I'm still alive. Going to get some liquor for tonight's drinking game. While I'm driving, I figured I'd talk about what's going on. What our plans are and whatnot."

"Turn left onto GS25," announced his phone. He obeyed, allowing the device to guide him. Because it was raining, he turned on the windshield wipers. Every so often there were flashes of light and rumbles.

"Great, it's storming... Ugh. I hate thunderstorms." He shook his head and got back on track. "So, as it stands right now, the main question a lot of you seem to have is what Min and I are doing with Dashing Cat. If I'm being completely honest... well, the answer is: nothing." He glanced at the camera and shrugged.

"Slight right once reached the CU market. Drive for 0.4 miles."

"That's a bit of an odd route, isn't it? Um, anyway, we deleted the game—lost interest in it, too. It didn't catch our attention, you know? As a game that we wanted to keep playing? So that's done. We don't have any plans to continue playing it, unfortunately."

"Turn east then left onto Olympic Dareo," the GPS ordered. "Drive for 400 feet." Hyunjin glanced at it, confused.

"Where exactly am I supposed to be going?" he murmured to himself. He decided to chalk it up to a navigation error, though, and obeyed it. "So, uh, for Halloween, we plan on letting you guys choose what we play."

"Keep going. Drive for 0.2 miles."

"So keep your eyes out for a poll. Or maybe we'll ask in a stream. I don't know. For November, I'm planning a new speed-run. Early Christmas for you guys, huh?" He laughed.

"Keep left to continue. Drive for 0.3 miles."

"Wait, what?" Hyunjin turned left onto the aforementioned road and stopped the car. This part of a road stretched on and on before him, surrounded by trees on either side. It was a dark path, with no street lights. If it wasn't so late, not to mention rainy, he might not be concerned about driving down it.

_Something's not right_ , he thought. _This can't be the route Seungmin takes._ He reached out to pick up his phone and call him, but hesitated. _He's busy. I shouldn't bother him. I mean, it can't be that bad. It's creepy, but it's only a road. Get a grip._

Hyunjin shook himself and let out a breath. Then he resumed driving again, making a mental note to cut out that moment of hesitation when editing the vlog recording. "So, uh..." He had troubled regaining his footing. "What was I talking about? I've lost my train of thought... Eh... Something about speed-running?" He puzzled. "Yeah. Yeah, that... sounds about—"

"You have reached your destination," announced the GPS’ cheery female voice.

Hyunjin slowed the car to a halt and stared at his phone. The arrow showing where he was placed him smack in the middle of this segment of Yeongdeungpo. "That's not where I told it to go," he murmured with a nervous titter. "Good going, self. You had one job, but somehow you... put the wrong address in." _But I showed it to Seungmin and he confirmed it. What happened? Did I change it somehow by accident?_

The confused guy glanced up and scanned his surroundings. Even with the headlights, it was too dark to make out much other than the sight of the trees around him. In fact, he was certain there wasn't anything else _to_ make out.

"No fucking way."

"Turn off your headlights."

Hyunjin snapped his mouth shut and glanced again at his GPS, sharp eyes wide in surprise. Sure enough, the newest instruction told him to turn off his headlights.

"What the...? Uh, okay then..." With much reluctance, he obeyed the order. He turned on the cab light to make up for the darkness on the road in front of him. For a moment, all was silent but for the sound of heavy rain and the windshield wipers moving back and forth.

"You have reached your destination," repeated the electronic voice.

Hyunjin's hands gripped the steering wheel as tight as they could. "What the hell?" He picked up the camera and aimed it toward the screen of his phone to show his future viewers where he was. "What is this? Why has my phone led me here? I wanted to go to a specific liquor store, but it's taken me here." He aimed the camera around, pointing it out each of the windows. "There's nothing here. And it's told me to turn off my headlights. This is freaky. I don't like this." He set the camera back down, half-heartedly pointed it at himself, and again placed his hands on the steering wheel. "This is really weird."

"Turn on your headlights."

Hyunjin stared at his phone, but didn't obey. Something wasn't adding up. "What's going on?" he asked again in an anxious breath.

"Turn on your headlights."

"How does it know I didn't? It's not _connected_ to the car."

"Turn on your headlights."

Hyunjin glanced up at the darkness in front of him. He sat like that, frozen in place, for a few seconds.

"Turn on your headlights."

He shook his head, slow at first but picking up pace. Then he draped his arm over the back of his seat and looked around to the back window. With a twist of the gearstick, he put the car in reverse.

"No way," he mumbled, "fuck this. I don't feel like getting murdered tonight. I'm getting out of here." Before he could put his foot on the accelerator, though, he stopped. It'd been ever so faint, but he could've sworn he'd heard something outside, under the rain.

_It was only a tree or something_ , he tried to convince himself. _Storms make sounds like that, right? But it didn't sound like a twig or anything..._ He hadn't heard it well enough to make any guesses, but he knew the sound of wood splintering in the rain. It hadn't been that. So what, then, could it have been?

_No... No, it wasn't a sound that caught my attention._ Concern growing, he leaned somewhat closer to the dashboard and squinted his eyes. _I saw something in front of the car. A shadow. Something moved out there._

_What the hell do we have in Seoul? Nothing like that, right? Ah, I know. I bet it was only the windshield wipers and my imagination... Why don't I believe that?_

He looked closer. There was a faint rumble of thunder growing in the distance that only added to his growing tension. Then, it happened: a flash of lightning illuminated his surroundings. He only saw it for less than two seconds, but that was all he needed to feel himself flush with shock and terror.

Standing in front of the car was Dash. His orange and white fur was soaked by the rain, as too was his black suit. His eyes were squinted, the same way they were always drawn. He looked like he was lunging forward. Then, darkness. Only a few seconds later, something heavy slammed into the hood of the car.

"What the fuck?!" he screamed, startled and frightened.

"Turn. On. Your. Headlights," the GPS ordered once more, pausing as if there were periods between the words. Hyunjin glanced at it to find that there actually were. That was all it took for him to slam on the accelerator and drive backwards as fast as he could. Once he'd made it back to Olympic Dareo, he was frantic in turning the car around. The camera slid off of the dashboard and fell into the under-dash space of the passenger seat, but he didn't try to stop it. In a panic, he started driving back from where once he'd come.

_Oh God oh God oh God oh God. What the fuck was that? Was that real? What the fuck!_

"Turn around," the GPS instructed over and over as he zoomed back to the main road. "Turn around." When he finally got back a main road and started driving east, it suddenly changed its mind. "Head east onto Olympic Darro. Drive for 0.9 miles."

With extreme reluctance, he followed the GPS' new directions.

"Turn left. Drive for 200 feet." A few seconds later: "You have reached your destination."

Turning left one more time revealed the liquor store he'd told it in the first place.

Shaking somewhat, he picked the camera back up. "What the hell was that?" he asked, scared by what he'd experienced. "God, that was terrifying. I'm going to keep recording even though I have nothing else to say, in case my car gets stolen or I go missing. Holy shit."

Trying not to let the frightening event phase him too much, he went into the store and bought a few bottles of alcohol. He returned to the car in a hurry, looking over his shoulders as he went. Driving home, he relied on memory rather than the GPS, not willing to risk it again.

"I need a drink more than ever," he mumbled to himself.

When he finally got home, he got out of the car with the camera in hand. Using his phone as light, he examined the hood of the car.

"Look at that dent... What happened back there?" He pointed the camera back at himself. "Well, uh, I'm gonna go for now. I'll update on this later." Then, he stopped recording.

He locked the door once he was inside and leaned against it as he caught his breath. What happened still frightened him, not that he understood it. He felt he was lucky to have escaped with his life. God only knew what else he might've seen—what would've happened—if he'd turned on the headlights. He tried not to think too hard about whatever had hit the hood. It'd sounded like metal, but he had no clue what it could've been.

Having heard him enter, Seungmin stepped out from the kitchen. "Hey," he greeted. "What took you so long?"

Hyunjin looked at him. Something about his frightened look must've tipped the younger off, as his expression turned into one of concern.

"Hyunjin?"

When he thought about it, he figured that it'd be easier to keep it from Seungmin. The last thing he wanted to do was make him worried about something that was over and done with. So he managed a small smile and told him, "I got lost." He pushed past him and headed into the kitchen, where he put down the bag of liquor.

Seungmin stepped into the kitchen as well. He leaned against the doorframe as Hyunjin cracked open a bottle of vodka. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he pointed out. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah. Everything's fine." He got out the glasses and poured two shots, handing one to Seungmin. Smiling up at his friend, wanting only to drink the frightening event out of his mind, he offered, "Let's have a few drinks to get started, okay?"

Seungmin hesitated, uncertain, but was happy to let the topic go. So he took the shot from Hyunjin. "Cheers!" he said.

"Cheers." replied Hyunjin.

Together they clinked their glasses and downed their shots.

An hour later, they were downstairs streaming. Hyunjin had drank a lot more than usual. People in the chat noticed this. Between the two of them, Hyunjin was the one who had the most difficulty holding his liquor. He rarely drank more than a few shots. Tonight, though, he drank any chance he got. Some of the chat started to suspect that he was failing in-game on purpose.

"That's silly," he giggled. Both he and Seungmin were happy drunks, which made their drinking games that much more entertaining. As Hyunjin argued, though, he barreled over the side of a cliff in-game and died. He then started to laugh, a loud, hearty noise in contrast to what he preferred while sober.

"Oh, bullshit, what's wrong with you?" Seungmin whined through his own chuckles. "You've got to be doing this on purpose! Gimme the controller. I'll show you how it's done!" Upon getting the controller, he proceeded to do exactly what Hyunjin did. As Hyunjin's laughs intensified, he lowered his head in an amused shame, trying not to laugh as well.

_"_ "Go get a dick." Hyunjin choked, nearly crying from laughter. "Dickhead."

"Hey," Seungmin mock-argued, "Don't challenge me, I might do it right now, right _here._ "

The sheer level of joking fury in Seungmin's voice caused Hyunjin to lurch forward in laughter. In doing so, he leaned against his muscular chest. He didn't even know what made the younger said that to him, but whatever the reason was, it was the cutest damned thing he'd ever heard from him. Seungmin finally let himself laugh as well. As he did, he leaned his head against Hyunjin's.

"Aww," someone in the chat wrote. "Seungjin is real!" That led a few of the other "Seungjin" fans to chip in, all thoroughly enjoying seeing the two streamers snuggle up together. They got that Seung from the name of Seungmin's channel and Jin from the older's name. Hyunjin read their messages and, all at once, felt embarrassed.

"You wish," he laughed, playing it off as a joke as he sat upright again.

"Your turn, dipshit." Seungmin handed him the controller. For a moment, they stared at each other in silence.

_Something feels... different_ , Hyunjin realized. _Why do I feel so awkward?_ He glanced down at the controller. _I'm only realizing it now, but I've felt like this since he told me about his past, haven't I? What is this?_

Hyunjin cleared his throat and took the controller.

_Must be because I'm drunk. It's bound to be nothing..._

They continued streaming for half an hour more before Seungmin finally noticed Hyunjin's increasing discomfort and fatigue. When he did, he seemed to decide that they should call it a night.

"We ought to stop before we both die of alcohol poisoning," he told the viewers. "Everyone be safe! We'll see you tomorrow!"

Hyunjin was only half-conscious, so he didn't realize they'd stopped streaming until Seungmin stood up. With bleary eyes, he looked up at the blond.

"Man," Seungmin groaned, mid-stretch. "I need to piss."

Hyunjin let out a small laugh. He watched as the younger jolted.

"Oh! The bottle!" he exclaimed. "We forgot about the bottle! Damn."

"We could always break it now," moaned the older. "You know, for the hell of it..."

"I'll be back." Handling his drunkenness much better than Hyunjin, he dashed out of the basement. Almost a minute later, he returned with the wine bottle in hand. Hyunjin rotated his chair with his legs, to face the wall across from their setup.

"Can you break it?" he asked, words slurred somewhat.

"Yeah, sure. How hard could it be?" As if he were preparing to swing at an oncoming ball, the younger gave the bottle a few small strokes. Then, holding the neck in one hand, he slammed it against the wall. They heard the sound of hollow glass clinking, but to their surprise, it didn't break. There were no glass shard exploding everywhere, never mind any shattering sound.

"Oh." He tried again—giggled when it didn't break. "I think I'm too drunk to give enough force."

Hyunjin giggled as well, even snorted in indecent amusement. "Need a hand?" he asked. Somehow, he found the question even more hilarious, so he laughed at himself.

"I wouldn't mind..."

Realizing that Seungmin was serious, he pushed himself out of his chair. When he stood, he wobbled on his feet, but managed to keep his balance. Then he stepped closer. "All right. How do we do this?"

"Wrap your hands around mine, I guess. We'll both swing together. That might work."

"Might?"

Seungmin shrugged. "I studied psychology, not physics."

Hyunjin smirked, but when he looked down at Seungmin's hand, gripping the bottles neck, it slipped.

_There's that awkwardness again..._

Flustered, the older started rubbing his hands down on his pant legs. "Palms are sweaty," he explained with an awkward chuckle.

"It's fine," Seungmin mumbled.

_God, even_ he _sounds awkward..._ Hyunjin glanced at him. Their eyes locked. There were a few seconds where they both stayed frozen, in some sort of trance together.

"Uhh... The bottle. Right." Hyunjin pulled his eyes away at last and wrapped his hands around Seungmin's.

"All right," said the younger. "You ready?"

"Ready as I'll ever be..."

Seungmin moved the bottle gently back and forth. Then, hand tensing under Hyunjin's, he exclaimed, "Goodluck!" Together they swung the bottle at the wall. Finally, it broke, though not quite as explosively as they'd hoped. The shards of thick black glass flew apart in big chunks, hitting the carpet. Hyunjin wobbled, off-kilter from the swing. Before he could fall, though, Seungmin caught the edges of his gray over shirt and held him up.

"Saved your life," he joked.

Hyunjin tried to laugh, but couldn't. He was close to Seungmin now, too close. The younger must've noticed as well, as his own grin slipped away. Staring up into his eyes, the older could hear only his heartbeat.

"Umm.." Hyunjin stammered, trying to find something to say to break the tension. There was nothing, though. He couldn't think through the haze of drunkenness and fluster.

"We drank way too much," muttered the younger.

Hyunjin averted his eyes, lowering them to Seungmin's chest. It was broad and firm, looking so even through his tight blue quarter-sleeved shirt. Unsure of what was going on in his own head, he flicked his eyes back up to his friend's. This managed to get a shiver from him.

"Hyunjin." There was reluctance in his voice, but under it...

_What's he thinking? What am I thinking? I have a feeling we're about to do something stupid... but do I want to stop it?_

They searched each other's eyes, for what Hyunjin didn't know. He thought he was all right with whatever they had now, but then he noticed Seungmin leaning in closer. His movement was slow, or it only seemed that way because he was drunk. While one half of Hyunjin was uncertain, the other was curious.

_Is he... about to kiss me? This is so sudden..._

Regardless, he felt himself moving closer as well, inch by inch. There came a mutual pause when they were close enough to feel each other's breaths. What Hyunjin had trouble determining was whether it felt right or if that was only a side effect of the alcohol.

_Should I risk it? Chances are, we won't be able to come back from this... I mean, kissing your best friend is kind of a game-changer._

"Hyunjin?" Seungmin's voice was a mere breath. It was warm against Hyunjin's face. The older met his gaze. A moment's thought. Then, finally, he decided: he gave his head a small nod.

"Yeah," he whispered. He wanted to say more, but his heart got stuck in his throat before he could.

When their lips finally met, they did so gently. It was a coy gesture, soft and sweet.

_Oh, my God. It feels right. I didn't know if it would, but it feels right._

He moved his arms over Seungmin. Clutching his hair, he felt it as it moved the ring on his middle finger. The younger pecked him again, a little harder. His arms went around Hyunjin's slender waist, pulling him somewhat closer. Back and forth they went, returning wet kisses. The older's thoughts turned to mush. He felt safe and loved in the arms of his friend—housemate— _partner_. His infatuation, though no doubt sudden, felt long overdue. How had he never even had a _crush_ on Seungmin through the years? Not once? It wasn't until now that he thought how strange that was. The way this felt now was like he'd loved him from the start, but somehow never realized it.

They kept at it for only a few seconds more before Seungmin pulled his head away. It took a few seconds for Hyunjin to realize he was now looking back at their setup. He glanced at it himself, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

"Seungmin?"

The younger looked back at him and fidgeted in place. "I thought I saw something, but I guess it was nothing," he explained. Hyunjin flashed him a coquettish smile, only to be surprised when he was picked up in a bridal carry. Though he wanted to say something, nothing came to mind. So, instead, he hummed and laid his tired head against his friend's shoulder.

Seungmin carried Hyunjin up to the second floor and into his bedroom. When they got into the dark room, he tried to lay Hyunjin down. He was so drunk himself, though, that this threw him off balance.

"Shit," he gasped as he flopped forward with Hyunjin. The older ended up on his bed, but with Seungmin leaning against him. They laughed about this at first, but then the mood changed once more. Soon, they'd stopped laughing.

Rather than try anything, Seungmin apologized and tried to stand. Hyunjin caught his arm, though, in a loose, drunk grip.

"No," he whined, "Seungmin..."

Seungmin gave him a troubled expression, though not without a touch of bittersweetness. He reached out and moved a strand of Hyunjin's hair before removing and placing them on the nightstand.

"You're drunk," he said. "If you remember this when you're sober and don't regret it, then... I don't know. We'll see what happens, hmm?" He cocked the corner of his mouth up and gently stroked the lder guy's cheek.

Hyunjin was too tired to argue, almost too tired to not know why Seungmin said that. Then, it dawned on him.

_Does he think we'd wind up..._ He couldn't finish the thought. _Probably good he doesn't stay, then... I don't know if I want to go that far with him..._

The younger stood up and headed for the bedroom door. Before closing it behind himself, he told Hyunjin, "Get some rest. Good night."

The older smiled a bit. "Good night." After the door closed, he laid his head back. He fell asleep, and didn't wake up until one in the afternoon the following day. When he awoke, he of course had a horrible hangover. Despite being groggy, he stood up and stumbled downstairs.

As he poured himself a glass of cold water to tend to his dry throat, he remembered the events of the prior night.

_Wow. Did that actually happen?_

He wasn't sure how he felt about it, but some part of him told him it was good. Though he'd been plastered, he remembered everything with stunning clarity. He reached up and touched his lips, remembering how Seungmin's had felt against them.

_My only real question is why that didn't happen_ sooner _. What happened last night to make it happen?_

No, it wasn't last night that did it. It was when he told me he might've been in love with his dormmate. Was that why I never thought about him that way? Because I wasn't sure of his sexuality? Or because I'm still pretty sure I'm interested in girls?

It was confusing, but he couldn't deny how right it'd felt.

_If we kissed again, sober... would it still feel right?_

Whatever the case, he needed to talk to Seungmin about it, the sooner the better.

_But what if he doesn't remember it? Oh, of course he would; he was less drunk than I was._ Hyunjin looked around. _Wait. Where is he? He's not downstairs, but his bedroom door was open, so he's awake. Oh. He must be in the basement. Duh._

Figuring he should check in to see whether their status quo had changed, Hyunjin took his water with him to the basement. The first thing he noticed was that Seungmin wasn't in down there. It wasn't this that made his blood run cold, though. It was what he noticed next, which almost made him drop his glass. On wobbling feet, he made his way over to the computer and stared at the screen. He couldn't believe what he was seeing. All at once, he found himself filled with terror.

The only open window was Dashing Cat. "Uh-oh," read the textbox above Dash's head. "Where's Buttons gone?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! we'll be having minsung for the next chapter aha let's get it!


	15. let's conquer the world together, you and i.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: smut, power play attempt, use of safeword.

The past year of Han Jisung's life had been unlike any other. He'd gone from living alone in a cheap Incheon apartment to living in one of a lavish home of Gimpo. Not the richest neighborhood, but still better than his apartment. Better than his family's house in Malaysia, where he'd been raised. If the house were any less modest, he likely would've been even more flustered by it. It was already near-mansion-esque, with its size and large second storey balcony.

Needless to say, money was no longer a problem. He and Minho were practically swimming in it. Whatever Jisung wanted, he got. In all honesty, he knew he'd never get used to this pampered lifestyle.

"What do you want?" Minho would ask.

"Nothing more than this," Jisung would answer. He wasn't used to having his way. When asked what he wanted, he considered instead what he needed. But he already had so much more than that. Even so, Minho would still go out of his way to win him over with materialistic things from time to time. While Jisung felt bad about this, he also felt pleased. Deep down, some part of him was greedier than ever.

Lee Minho, his partner, was always been a painter and dancer, as he'd been when they met last time. Most of his time he spent either painting or contributing ideas to his project with Jisung. The project was an innocent-looking indie game with a malicious intent. Its stupidity was far from lost on the younger, but he found himself forced into it.

Minho would occasionally kill for sport, but as of late, he'd been killing more than ever. He had to have killed at least eight or nine people because of the game's algorithm alone. Jisung knew he was helping a serial killer, and wanted to say he was only doing so to protect himself. The truth of the matter, though, was that he helped because he _wanted_ to. He didn't want people to die because of him, but if that was a consequence he had to deal with, then he would.

The game, disguised as a child-friendly educational deal, featured Minho's old character on his painting. It was a tall, orange and white anthropomorphic cat named Dashing Cat. Jisung did Dash's voice, as well as the art for the game. Though, his instruction was to do his worst with the art, to make it seem innocent. This was difficult for Jisung, who'd been a freelance digital artist before Minho took him away. Though, he and the painter always got a laugh out of the various terrible ways he could draw Dash.

The cat despised liars, as did Minho. So, the game kept track of how many times the player lied. When it reached a certain count, a bad ending would occur. Minho was only supposed to kill players when this happened. This turned out to be difficult, though. Few players would play the game with such dishonesty. It came as a relief to Jisung at first.

_Maybe_ , he thought like a fool, _he'll slow down when it comes to murder._

Then came Minho's restlessness. Hell, Jisung wouldn't back down from calling it madness, even. It was interesting to watch, for a while, how the painter would cope. He liked killing people on doomsdays, according to John Conway's algorithm. There was an extra precautionary step, though, to his kills, in that he needed to know their birthday first. If their birthday fell on a doomsday, he'll kill them on their birthday. If not, he'll kill them right at a certain doomsday. Or, at least, that's what Jisung had determined to be his method.

It was difficult for Minho to get everything to align sometimes, though. During times like that, like when the game became meaningless, things sometimes became... _unsettling_ around the house. Often Jisung wouldn't notice anything was wrong until he found Minho doing something unusual. He'd made a mental list of the most peculiar and/or out of character things he'd seen the painter do. It went something like this:

Sitting in the kitchen with a bath towel draped over his head, acknowledging nothing for three and a half hours.

Glaring at his own canvas while painting something onto it.

Mercilessly stabbing a huge fruit (like watermelon) with a knife.

Drinking a lot of wine. (Now whenever Jisung saw Minho break out a bottle of wine, it always made him nervous.)

Having a loud argument with himself.

Following Jisung around and mimicking him without a word.

At best, Jisung would call a Minho a "complicated soul". At worst, he'd say these periods of instability made him fear for his life. The painter hadn't made killing seem like a compulsion of his. The more time Jisung spent time with him, though, the more he came to realize it was almost an _obsessive_ compulsion.

He stayed with Minho because he felt _something_ for him. What, though, he was unsure. Since they had sex every other night, he figured he should refer to him as his boyfriend. Try as he may, he couldn't bring himself to do so. Minho felt something for him too, it seemed, but he didn't think it was love. On his end, Jisung still wasn't sure he was actually having _real_ feelings for him. Admitting that he and Minho were in a relationship felt too much like coming out of the closet to him.

Despite their feelings, Jisung couldn't shake the fear that Minho would murder him sooner or later. Watching him crack little by little doing odd things didn't comfort him. So when Minho asked to make adjustments on the game's behavior, he accepted, with little concern for any unfortunate players.

The game now fired them the player's IP address as soon as it ran. On top of that, any info they revealed to Dash throughout the game. Once that information was in Minho's hands, the game was on. He'd toy with them with the game, then hunt them down. Before killing them, he'd always announce the words, "Happy D-day!"

The painter's murdering spree had grown rapidly out of hand. If Jisung wasn't living with him, he would've let his good heart convince him that the man needed to be stopped. As it stood now, though, what concerned him most was the Dashing Cat costume. Minho would almost always put it on before doing something crazy to his current victim. It creeped Jisung out. Every time he saw him putting on the cat head, he felt a shiver go down his spine, because it usually meant someone was about to die.

Minho had lots of money on the day of Jisung's birthday. They'd been celebrating it... or, more accurately, Jisung had been dreading it. He always felt nervous on his birthday, since Minho said before that it was his favorite d-day. This was only his second birthday with Minho. One of these years, Minho was going to kill him with the knife he used to cut the birthday cake.

They'd been 'celebrating' Jisung's birthday when a slow music played on a stereo. Minho extended his hand to Jisung after they ate their own piece of cake. While wondering what made Minho do that, Jisung had ended up holding the painter's hand back. In short, though, they danced in the middle of carpeted floor. He should be happy from the act, because everything screamed romantic on to it. But as fucked up as his mind was, his heart had wanted to escape from his chest by the thought of Minho doing something bloody to him. It made everything worse when Minho leaned closer to him, his both hands were cupping the younger's jaw firmly, "Let's be together from this day on until your last breath, Jisung.", and after that day, things had unexpectedly been back to normal.

10th of October when a streamer who lived in Seoul started playing their game. To be more accurate, _two_ streamers: Hyuncam and Seungamer. When Jisung saw their usernames, he'd frowned. He didn't like many streamers, but Hyunjin and Min were his two favorites. What were the odds of _them_ playing their damned game?

Minho wasn't a fan of video games in general, thus didn't know any streamers. At least, that was what Jisung thought. When he showed Minho their unlucky players, though, the painter tensed. It took a few seconds for him to realize it was Seungamer, the dandy boy, that had such an effect.

"What's wrong?" Jisung had asked.

"I know him," had been Minho's response. Any further information, the younger guy had been unable to pry.

He figured it was due to this that Minho decided to dismiss the actual game. In fact, he sabotaged it outright, using the connection he established to their computer. The older was a master when it came to using a hacking tool called Metasploit. He often tried to teach Jisung how to use it, but the artist could never understand it, much less on a Linux.

Minho changed how the game ran. To be fair, they didn't have time to wait for the streamers to complete the game this time. They only had until October 31st, the last doomsday of the month. It seemed poetic to kill them then.

When Minho found out that Hyunjin's birthday wasn't fell on a doomsday—he was still elated. This meant he couldn't kill the streamer until then, otherwise he wouldn't get full satisfaction from the kill. The dandy guy, whose real name turned out to be Kim Seungmin, though... His birthday remained up in the air. No one had any clue what day it was. Minho tried to coax Hyunjin into giving it away, but to no avail, as Seungmin had resisted. This uncertainty only seemed to excite Minho more. Jisung hadn't seen the painter so amused planning murder in months.

Things were rather tame until the night of October 29th. In fact, Minho had spoken little of the two streamers. Jisung had been foolish enough to think that Minho had given up. Then, he almost had a heart attack when he saw him wearing the Dashing Cat costume again.

"Jesus Christ, Minho," he complained after jolting in the dining chair he sat in. "You scared the hell out of me. Take that shit off."

"We're going for a drive," he told Jisung, less an offer than an order.

Jisung, tired since it was almost midnight, sighed. "Why?"

"Get dressed."

"Why do you always make me get involved in your insanity, Minho?"

"Because I know you love it."

The younger raised a brow in doubt then shook it off. Then he got up and dressed in his formal black suit. He was afraid to argue while Minho wore the fuzzy orange accessories that made up the costume. Who knew what he'd do to him if he showed disobedience?

Next thing he knew, he and Minho were parking on the side of a desolate street surrounded by trees. Minho, still wearing the costume (Jisung was only amazed that he could see well enough to drive in the dark with the head on), turned off the headlights and stepped out. He stood on the middle of the road and gazed off into the distance. Jisung sat still for a moment. It was storming outside. Minho was fast drenched out there, but he didn't move.

_Not keen on catching a cold_ , Jisung thought, _but then again... What's he doing out there?_

So he stepped out into the rain as well. He approached Minho who looked at him, then looked off to where he was staring. There was nothing there. Only darkness.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked Minho.

"Watch." As Jisung obeyed Minho's command, he saw that he now held his cellphone in his left hand. His right hand was extended toward Jisung, who had to take a second to realize he wanted him to pull off the pinkish white cat paw. When he did, Minho glanced down at his phone and started tapping on the dimmed screen.

_How can he see what he's doing?_

"Hyunjin will come to us."

"Oh, sure." Jisung rolled his eyes. "How's that going to happen?"

"I have ways," was Minho's answer. They returned to the car and leaned against it in the chilly October night. Jisung shivered, crossing his arms over his chest. Minho looked at him, which made him flinch.

"Don't look at me while you're wearing that head," he warned. "The eyes creep me out."

"You're the one who designed them this way," Minho teased.

" _You're_ the one who said 'squinty eyes'."

"Hah, good point."

A few minutes later, Jisung heard a car approaching from down the street. There were no headlights, though. Minho tapped something else into his phone. Soon after, the car slowed to a halt only a few feet away from them. The inner cab light was on. Jisung could only just make out Hyunjin sitting in the driver's seat.

"Holy shit." He hadn't doubted Minho, but Hyunjin's presence still surprised him.

Minho handed his phone off to the younger. "Give me your cane."

"What?"

"Quick. Keep telling him to turn on his headlights."

"I—" Jisung didn't have time to finish talking before Minho took his metal cane and started marching toward Hyunjin's car. "Minho."

No answer. Instead, Minho composed himself and stood still in front of the vehicle. Jisung looked down at the phone. He was no master, but he saw the code Minho had entered before and copied it.

"Turn on your headlights," he wrote, uncertain of what effect it would have.

In the car, he saw Hyunjin glance at the dashboard. It was then that he realized what Minho had done.

_That crazy son of a bitch. How the hell did he hack his phone?_

He kept typing the command. As much as he wanted to deny it, there was a part of him that felt exhilarated with this kind of control. Knowing that by mimicking a few lines of code, he was terrifying someone. Seeing Hyunjin panicking was a twisted kind of fun to him. So rare was it that Minho gave him an involved position like this. Should he thank him for that, or ask him to give him power more often?

When Hyunjin still didn't respond and it started to look like he might flee, Jisung threw caution to the wind.

"Turn. On. Your. Headlights," he wrote, using periods to force the electronic voice to pause. If Hyunjin was going to leave anyway, he figured he may as well make it _known_ that he was doomed. He couldn't fight off the warped smirk his lips curled into. All he could hope was that Minho couldn't see it somehow. He'd deny the pleasure he took from things like this until the day he died.

Inside the car, Hyunjin shook his head. He started to back the car up, but stopped when Minho stepped closer.

_Can he see him?_ Jisung worried. But Hyunjin seemed confused more than anything. He leaned closer to the windshield as if trying to get a closer look outside. A rumble of thunder. Then, a lightning flash. It illuminated both him and Minho. The instant it was dark again, the painter whipped the cane into the hood of the car. Hyunjin jolted at the loud slam, then he was speeding backwards.

_Not so fast._

"Turn around," Jisung wrote into the prompt over and over. "Turn around." "Turn around." "Turn around."

Minho picked up Jisung's cane and returned to the car. "That will do," he said, then grabbed his phone out of Jisung's slippery hands. The younger could hear the smile in his voice even behind the fur. "Let's go back home now."

"Is my cane still together?"

"It's not _that_ easily damaged," Minho handed the unharmed walking stick back to Jisung. Then, they got back into the car together. Without even taking off the mask, the painter turned the ignition and turned around on the road. Jisung, meanwhile, had to resist the urge to shake the rainwater out of his dark hair.

It only took a few minutes for Jisung to realize how aroused he was. He was cold and soaked, but his breath caught in his chest. His thoughts were near-unintelligible. As much as he still denied his sexual needs, Minho's late-night antics and shows of dominance were undeniable turn-ons for him. He couldn't keep his eyes off of the man in the driver's seat. The cat head was troublesome, though...

"Take off that mask," the younger snapped on a hot breath. "It's weird."

"Oh common, Jisung. We both know you like it."

"Minho, please."

Still driving, Minho reached over, blind, and rubbed his bare fingers across Jisung's cheek. "Why don't we do it with the costume tonight, hmm?"

"How about because it's sopping bloody wet?"

"Don't you want to try something new?"

"You come near me with that head on and I'll say 'apples' before we even _do_ anything."

Minho retracted his hand, returning it to the steering wheel. "Touchy, touchy. You use your safeword too much, Jisung. Sooner or later, I'll stop being able to _notice_ when you say it."

Jisung took a breath and crossed a leg over the other.

_All right, come on. Calm down. It's time to stop this weird affair shit. No sex. I'm not even interested with this sexual stuff before._

But then, in the back of his mind: _what if he only keeps me alive because I have sex with him?_

When Minho reached over and grazed his forearm, it made him shiver. He bit his lower lip and leaned back against his seat. All at once, the sexual tension overpowered him.

"Drive faster," he demanded. Even through the mask, he could visualize the wide, handsome smirk the painter had.

"It's so hot when you boss me around like that, Jisung."

"Stop talking. I can't wait much longer as it is."

"What if I want you to writhe?" taunted the older guy in a dark, seductive voice. "Watching you struggle to control yourself is even hotter. You can't resist me, can you?"

Jisung dug his fingers into his wet hair, dragging it over his flushed face. "I wish I could, but I don't think it'll happen, _Minho_."

Saying the painter's name a second time made him finally rip off the Cat mask. He tossed it into the backseat, then pressed down a little harder on the accelerator.

Jisung took a look with Minho's profile. His slicked back black hair was messier than normal from the cat head. He looked composed, though, like he always did. In all their time together, Jisung had never once seen Minho get as flustered as he got. With a lick of his lips, the younger had an unusual thought.

_Fuck this. I'm done being the one who begs. I want to see him lose his cool. I want to make him beg to do things to me._

There came that wry grin again, same as when he'd saw Hyunjin panicked. He wasn't sure if this would be a good idea, but he knew how to start it. Despite his concern, he decided to try it anyway, craving a new form of excitement.

"Minho," he husked. A lot of Minho's exact turn-ons were unknown to Jisung. A lot, except hearing him say his name. To be fair, though, the reverse was even stronger on Jisung. If he were to turn the tables...

The painter glanced at Jisung in his peripheral, but gave little other sign that he'd heard him.

_I know he did._ So he fully stared at Minho, reaching for his thigh near him.

"Minho."

"What?"

"Minho." A slight fidget from him intensified Jisung's smirk. "Minho,"

"Ah, I see. You're trying some sort of power play on me, aren't you?"

The younger shrugged, playing coy. "I don’t know what you mean."

"You won't make me flustered."

_He wants to play that way, does he?_ "Well, me neither." Jisung straightened himself in his seat. It was a little difficult, though, because he was already half hard. "I'm tired. Let's get home so I can sleep."

This earned a bit more real of a glance from Minho, but this time, Jisung ignored it. When he looked back at the windshield, he could've sworn he saw his jaw tighten, contrasting to what his innocent-like eyes were showing.

When they got home a few minutes later, they were both quick in getting out of the car and entering the house. Minho closed and locked the door behind them. Jisung took off his shoes, making sure to stand in a way that hid his hard-on from the older's sight.

Minho stepped closer, looking at Jisung. "So," he said almost softly, "We should get out of these clothes. I'm thinking of taking a shower. You?"

Jisung stared at him then blinked. A few seconds later, he realized he'd been spoken to, but couldn't figure out what he might've said. A decent part of him wanted to throw himself at his partner, but he suppressed it, unwilling to lose this show of power. So, instead, he frowned and shrugged.

"I'm going to get something to eat, then go to sleep," he mumbled. Minho's eyes were sharply focused on his; it made him delightfully uncomfortable. There was no response from the painter at all, which he wasn't sure how to interpret. Not thinking too well, he added, "Good luck with your shower _Minho_." Then, he broke eye contact and walked deeper into their house. Minho didn't follow; in fact, he didn't even move.

True to his suggestion, Jisung's legs carried him into the kitchen. Right as he was about to accept that he couldn't manipulate Minho so, he heard the fast approach of footsteps. Before he could even turn, he'd been shoved, bent over the dining table. Minho's hands grabbed his before tying something wet—his tie, most likely—tight around his wrists. Jisung gasped in shock at the roughness with which Minho then held him down. Leaning on the younger, he bent over him to hiss into his ear,

"Don't fucking power play me, Jisung. Your safeword will stop _nothing_ if you rev me up like that."

_Don't lose yourself onto it,_ was the first response to pop into Jisung's head. He held his tongue, though.

Taking rough hold of the Jisung's leg, Minho flipped him over and onto the table. Then his lips were against Jisung's, kissing him deep and hard. Already, their tongues were wrestling, but Jisung didn't care. There was no need for any sort of foreplay anymore; the tension had done that for them on its own. The way his arms were pinned behind his back, with his hands tied together, was new. Minho had never bound him before.

_Is it because I seduced him? Maybe I should do that more often; it feels kind of good..._

It was also a bit frightening, but that only added to Jisung's excitement of it.

In a frenzy, Minho started ripping off Jisung's clothes, piece by piece. In doing so, he wound up having to unbind Jisung's hands. He was especially rough with his pants, tearing them off with abandon. Then, once he had the younger naked under him, he flipped him back over and tied his wrists again.

What an exhilarating feeling it was, be the only one undressed, exposed and at Minho's mercy. He could feel the older's hands pulling the younger's hips closer to him and began caressing his tan skin. He leaned down to leave a peck and mark on Jisung's side neck which was responded by a fast panting. Then, he turned onto his back once more, dark eyes meeting with Minho's. There was a rare, wild look in the painter's eyes, but he held himself still over Jisung.

"It's not too late," he advised. "You can still get out of this. My clothes are still on."

Jisung's eyes trailed down to Minho's crotch. Through his dark black dress pants, he could see the tent formed by his eager arousal. He brought his gaze back up to meet his.

"Minho," he breathed.

There was extra roughness in the way Minho moved Jisung's legs apart. It was both painful and delightful. From a pocket in his suit blazer, he pulled out a wrapped condom. Then, he was undoing his belt.

When Minho entered him a few seconds later, he cried out. By now, he would've expected to be used to the way it felt, but he'd had no such luck. Every time, the heft of the painter's cock surprised him. It didn't help this time that Minho was deciding to skip straight to fucking him hard and fast, without any kind of preparation included.

"Ahhh, Minho—slow _down_! _Ahhh_! Minho!" His voice was shrill from pain and approaching nirvana. "Minho, _please_!" He squirmed on the table, feet bending forward and toes curling as he moaned. It didn't helped though when Minho reached for his cock for him to masturbate. Along with the wetness of Jisung's body due to rain, his sweat had made his body even more wet. After many series of thrusting ang changing positions, right as he reached the edge—when only one thrust more would release him from this pleasant torture—Minho pulled out. This only made Jisung squirm harder in displeasure.

"M-Minho, what are you doing?"

"I said I wanted to see you writhe," the older said, voice dark. "This is your punishment for riling me up." He paced around to the other side of the table; Jisung followed him with his eyes the whole way.

"No, Minho, please. Please, you can't do this to me! I'm—I'm so close!"

The painter ran his fingers and palm along the table as he approached. He teased by moving them closer to Jisung, but then pulled them back without as much as a touch. "I want to hear you beg."

"Minho, I'll lose it! _Please_!"

"I won't let you lose it. I'll make you wish you could, though." That said, he reached over Jisung and gave his member two firm, slow strokes. If Jisung felt himself slipping away from orgasm, the touch alone brought him back. He cried out, desperate for release, but again Minho pulled away.

"You're a fucking sadist!"

"That's why you like me so much."

Jisung struggled against the fabric holding his wrists behind his back. If he could only move his hands, he could finish himself off. At least he knew now why Minho had restrained him...

"Common, Jisung. Beg for _it_."

"Fuck you Minho!" he moaned. "Apples!"

The painter laughed before letting out a few tuts. "No, no, no, Jisung. I'm not letting you get out so easy."

"It's my fucking _safeword_! You can't ignore it!"

"Or else?"

"Or else it's _rape_ , you bastard!"

Minho leaned down. His tongue made its way across the ridges of Jisung's ear. The sensation made the younger screamed in a mix of pleasure and frustration.

"You can't take much more of this, can you?" husked the older. "Neither can I. Fuck, this is the hottest thing we've done yet." He then pushed himself up and rushed around to the other side of the table, his hand palming his own lower face.

"Please," Jisung begged. "Please, finish me!"

"Say my name," demanded the painter, voice unstable.

"Minho!"

"Fuck," he cursed on a breath. He sheathed himself inside Jisung again; thrust hard, smashing against the wound up-younger's prostate. That was all it took to get Jisung to throw his head back, screaming in ecstasy as he came. Because of the delay, this orgasm was the strongest he'd ever felt. He felt like he'd die as all his muscles clenched tight. He hardly noticed as Minho finished too, except for the noise. Usually, Minho only completed with a choke, but this time, he made a small moan as well.

For a few seconds, he blacked out, only to wake up to Minho's voice as he leaned over him on the table.

"Aren't you glad I didn't let you back out?" he breathed. He actually seemed winded for once; unwound in a rather attractive way.

Unable to think in his exhausted, post-orgasm delirium, Jisung laid his head down without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy new year everyone! loveloooots. <333


	16. i'm trapped in a phobia of you. (part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello guys sorry for not updating for almost three weeks. got a lot of school stuffs to finish, but anyway,, here are the updates now! (2 chapters updated)  
> this is the continuation of events happening in chapter 14 with hyunjin's viewpoint. hope you all like it! 💖

Hyunjin sat down in his chair and gawked at the screen. He couldn't believe his eyes. How was the game running? Seungmin had deleted it! Their stream was live again, the chat already well aware of what was going on. Most of them thought this was cool, but Hyunjin had other thoughts. Something about the game's presence and the contents of the textbox put a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong.

He hardly acknowledged the chat as he opened Discord and went away from the computer as he tried to start a voice call with Seungmin.

"Pick up," he mumbled to himself, shaking somewhat from anxiety. "Seungmin, please." To his simultaneous surprise and relief, he did.

"Hey," Seungmin greeted. The sound of his voice soothed Hyunjin's nerves.

"Hey, where are you?" Hyunjin asked through a weary sigh.

"Uhh, in the car?"

"Why?"

"We need groceries, so I'm going to go get some. I would've brought you along, but I thought you might need some rest after last night. I only left a minute ago, actually."

Hyunjin decided to cut right to the chase. "Did you download the game again?"

"What game?"

"Dashing Cat."

Seungmin guffawed. "No way! Why would I do that?"

"It's open right now."

The younger's tone became serious. "It's what?"

"I came downstairs, you were gone, and it was running. We're live again."

"Oh, Jesus Christ! You're just making fun of me, right?"

"I wish I was."

Seungmin groaned, and as he did, Hyunjin glanced at the chat. The majority seemed to be under the impression that this was scripted. Some talked about how interesting it was, while others complained about them jumping aboard the "hype" train. The latter group griped that they expected better.

"This isn't scripted," Hyunjin snapped back at them.

"What are you saying?" Seungmin asked.

"The chat thinks this is scripted."

"Wait, we're seriously live right now? End the stream, man!"

"They deserve to know what's—"

"Shit!"

Following Seungmin's shriek was the faint sound of screeching tires. A second later, the loud slam of the car smashing into something. He heard glass smashing—the windshield? Then, silence.

Hyunjin flinched at the loud noises when they happened. His blood ran cold. The chat stopped moving for a few seconds. Everyone appeared as stunned as he was.

"Seungmin??" Hyunjin called, not noticing that he mentioned his name loud through live.

There was no response.

The older guy started to panic. "Seungmin! Seungmin, are you all right? Answer me!"

Nothing but the faint sound of the turn signal indicator clicking.

"Shit! Hang in there, I'm coming to find you!"

Without even bothering to end the Discord call, Hyunjin leapt to his feet and bolted upstairs. He grabbed the gray shirt he usually wore over his red one and threw it on. As he left, he didn't bother to lock the front door. There wasn't time for that. Instead, he pulled it shut and took off down the street, sprinting like mad. He only hoped he knew the route Seungmin would've taken to the store. If he was correct, then it would only take him about five minutes to get to him while running.

He ran, and ran, and ran. In his haste, he didn't care about his surroundings. That was why, when a car screeched to a halt only inches from him, he almost had a heart attack. He took a moment to look into the windshield at the person who could've killed him. It was hard to see through the windshield, but he could make out a guy with dark, messy hair. He was wearing a suit, staring at Hyunjin in utter surprise. There was someone lying in the backseat, but Hyunjin could make out next to nothing of them.

Now doubly panicked, Hyunjin fumed and cursed at the driver, "Watch where you're going, fucker!" Then he kicked the bumper and took off running, continuing to Seungmin's aid. He had to be getting close. How far could Seungmin have driven?

Two streets later, he finally found their car. It had crashed almost head-on into a telephone pole a street down 26th Street. Smoke was billowing out from under the hood; broken glass surrounded the ground around it. Hyunjin, panting from fatigue, gave one final push as he rushed toward the car.

_"Seungmin!"_ he screamed as he ran. When he reached the side of the vehicle, he immediately looked through the driver side window. Seungmin's phone was in the GPS holder on the dashboard. The airbag, blown out and deflated. The driver side door hung open a crack. The only thing missing was Seungmin himself.

Hyunjin stepped back and looked down the street. "Seungmin? Seungmin!"

But there was no answer. So he grabbed Seungmin's phone from the dashboard and called 9-1-1. He reported the car crash, trying to stay calm but failing, and also told them that the driver was missing. A police cruiser arrived a short time later. The officers searched the surrounding area, but couldn't find Seungmin. After he gave them information for their records, they drove him back home.

After stepping inside and locking the door, Hyunjin only stood in the middle of the hallway. He didn't know what to do, much less what actually happened. He needed to know where Seungmin was. He couldn't rest until he figured that out.

_Something happened to him, I know it. Does it have anything to do with what I experienced last night? What if this game really is as dangerous as people said?_

The last place he expected to get his answer was from the chat of the stream he'd neglected to turn off. He'd only gone into the basement for... Why _had_ he gone into the basement? When he thought about it, he didn't have an answer. He was so shaken that he found himself wandering the house in a daze. He'd glanced at the chat by accident, but what he saw there caught his attention.

"What was that other voice on the call?" "Why's the chat going wild? What did I miss?" "Was that the same guy who does the voice for Dash?" "This is a wicked plot!" "Did Dash just kidnap Min?" "Are they friends with the actor?" "Holy shit, this is getting intense." "Look at the game!" "This is stupid." "The game changed." "Spooky!" "LOL WTF?" "Hyunjin, look at the textbox!"

Hyunjin turned his attention to the Dashing Cat window. He wondered how he hadn't seen this first. In the game, he saw Dash in a car. It looked like the same car that had almost hit him. It bounced a bit as the wheels spun, making it look like it was driving.

The textbox read, "Beep, beep! Get out of the way! I've got a dandy boy in the backseat who needs some good tender loving care!"

If Hyunjin was any less stoic, he might've fainted.

_I can't be reading this right. The person I saw in the backseat of that car... Was that Seungmin? It couldn't have been. I would've recognized him! But it was so hard to make them out through the windshield..._

The man in the suit must've looked so surprised because he was the one behind everything. Is he watching right now?

Hyunjin turned his eyes onto the camera and stared. Without warning the game screen went black, so he looked at it. A new textbox popped up.

"3 AM sharp, October 31st. Use your last eleven hours wisely. If you leave the basement or turn off your stream before then, Seungmin dies. See you on Doomsday!"

Hyunjin didn't know what to do. So, desperate, he asked the chat. What few of them still believed him (or at least decided to play along) told him to call the police. That was his only option... but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Something told him that they wouldn't believe him, either. So he started pacing around the basement, running his hands through his hair. It was obvious that whoever was behind this was watching the stream. Was there no out? He turned to the camera.

"If you're watching," he pleaded, "please don't hurt him. Leave Seungmin out of this! I'm sorry for whatever we did! Let him go, please!"

Nothing changed. Hyunjin continued to pace for a few hours. He would've expected people to leave the stream, but as the minutes passed, more and more arrived. News was spreading fast about him having his official "Dashing Cat kill date". They were eager, with no idea of the terror he felt.

He wasn't sure what he did to pass the time, but next thing he knew, it was two thirty in the morning. He should've been exhausted, but he was too frightened. By now, though, his fear had started to become spite.

Staring right at the camera, he declared, "I think you're bluffing." He didn't expect a response. So, when he got one, it startled him.

"Does this look like I'm bluffing?" a new textbox asked. Following it was a picture of Seungmin, arms chained to a wall like some sort of medieval torture victim. He looked otherwise unharmed, though unconscious.

_Oh, God. Please let him only be unconscious._

Another textbox then inquired, "Or how about this?"

Hyunjin's eyes widened at the next image. In the back of the picture was his own bedroom. The main focus of the image, though, was Dashing Cat himself. Squinty eyes, orange fur and all. The same thing he'd caught a glimpse of on his way to liquor store before.

Some of the viewers got kicks out of the cat. Under other circumstances, it could've been considered corny, even cringe-worthy. But Hyunjin couldn't get past the fact that it was in _his_ bedroom. It was only two floors above him right now, eagerly awaiting three o'clock. There was no escape.

One last textbox appeared. Its message was the most frightening Hyunjin had yet received:

"You should never leave your front door unlocked."

Hyunjin had never been so terrified in his entire life. Yet, still, his viewers didn't believe him. Even if they did, what could they do? Calling the cops wasn't an option. How could he explain that there was a man dressed like a orange cat waiting upstairs to kill him? They'd think he was tripping out on some sort of illegal drug, even though he was sober. He wished he wasn't.

If he wasn't so terrified, the amount of people watching would've pleased him—the counter was at an all-time high. By now, everyone in the chat was either laughing or spamming the "kappa" emote. They were amused by the show that he was unwittingly putting on.

2:58 AM. His time was ticking. All he wanted was for them to believe him.

"GG, Hyunjin!" wrote someone in chat.

"Two more minutes, guys! Hype!" said another one.

His mind was running circles in terror. They'd think his death was fake, in the biggest case of dramatic irony he'd ever heard of. It'd be mere entertainment to them, as was his life beforehand. They'd comment on how fake it looked, because it wouldn't look like it did in the movies. He likely wouldn't even be in the frame.

His real pain came from the fact that his entire life had led up to this. It was hard to believe that this was all because he'd decided to play an indie game.

"Please," he gasped to the microphone. His hands were on his head, clutching his hair due to sheer reflex, though he didn't need it. "I swear this isn't some sort of Halloween event. I'm about to die!"

More kappa emotes were sent his way.

"You should be an actor. You're great at staying true to character!" one person commented. They followed their remark up with a kappa as well.

"This isn't a joke!" Hyunjin's eyes started to well up, but he wasn't crying yet.

When he heard footsteps on the floor above him, he tensed up and went dead silent. The chat slowed down, but he wasn't paying attention to it anymore.

"Did you guys hear that?" he asked the chat in a low and panicking voice. If anyone replied, he didn't notice.

2:59 AM. The basement stairs creaked. Hyunjin had only sixty seconds to live.

When the basement door opened, Hyunjin's first reflex was to pick up the nearest object in self-defense. In stepped his worst fear: Dash. There was something in his right hand, but Hyunjin couldn't tell what. Whatever it was, it was going to be used to kill him. But he wasn't about to go down without a fight. He glanced at what he'd picked up. It was a game box. It would have to do.

He threw the rectangular box at Dash. As expected, it hit him in the face and bounced off without much effect. The cat rushed him. Hyunjin screamed and kicked. He got the cat in the gut, but whoever was in the costume was strong. It felt like he was kicking a wall; again, little effect. Dash raised his right hand. He smashed whatever he was holding against the side of the streamer's head. Next thing Hyunjin knew—or rather, _didn't_ —he was unconscious and crumpling to the floor.

Dashing Cat stared down at Hyunjin for a moment, then two. When he finally looked up, he reached over and stopped the stream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back to minsung next chapter,,


	17. i'm trapped in a phobia of you. (part 2)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the continuation of chapter 15 and has connection to chapter 16. focused on jisung's viewpoint.

In the morning, Jisung regretted it. He'd known he would: that was how it always worked. He and Minho would have sex at night, he'd regret it the following morning, Minho would seduce him throughout the day... Thus, the cycle continued with no end in sight. There was nothing unusual about him waking up in bed alone. Why, then, did he have the feeling that something was wrong?

Perhaps it was the potent smell of dish soap. When he got up and left the bedroom, it grew stronger, causing him to bring his hand up to his nose.

"What the hell?" he mumbled to himself in confusion. The scent led him downstairs, to the kitchen. He hesitated before looking inside. Whenever Minho did something unusual, it tended to be in the kitchen for some reason.

_Did he crack up again and do something weird again?_ He looked into through the doorway. _Yes. Yes, he did._

The kitchen counters glistened and _radiated_ soap. They appeared almost worn out from the amount of scrubbing they'd received. From further inside, the smell continued, as did a rough, rhythmic sloshing sound. Jisung was cautious in stepped inside. Minho was at the table. The sleeves of his white dress shirt were rolled up past his elbows to make room for the rubber dishwashing gloves he wore. In his left hand, he held a sponge, which he used to scrub feverishly at the table.

What concerned Jisung more than Minho's sudden cleanliness were the ever-so-faint bags under his eyes. His black hair was still messy from last night.

"Did you sleep?" he asked.

"And waste my time?"

"Why, uhh...?" Jisung looked around the room, then realized he didn't know how to interpret the question, after all. So, instead, he looked back at the table. There were plenty of soapsuds, but he watched as Minho squirted out the rest of the dish soap anyway. "I think it's clean, hyung." Minho stopped for a moment, but ended up continuing what he was doing. Jisung forgot that he didn't want to call him with honorifics. But he responded at what the younger had stated anyway.

"You never know," replied the older guy. Then, he gripped the sponge with both hands and scrubbed even harder.

Concern coming over him, Jisung swallowed his hesitation and stepped closer. When his hand fell onto Minho's arm, he stopped moving. Slowly, he turned his head and looked at the younger in the eye.

"Stop," Jisung said.

Minho blinked, looked back at the table. "Out, damned spot."

"What?"

"Out, I say." The handsome painter lifted the sponge and dropped it into a bucket on the floor beside him. It splashed in the water as if it weighed a pound or two. "One, two; why, then, it's time to do it." He picked up the bucket and headed toward the sink. Baffled, Jisung followed him with his eyes.

"Minho, what are you talking about?"

"Hell is murky!" He dumped the bucket out into the metal basin and watched the suds slink down the drain after the water.

Jisung only stared, unable to speak— _afraid_ to speak. Minho seemed so confident in what he was saying, but to the younger, it made no sense. He was relieved when Minho looked at him with his normal smugness.

"Your suit's drying," he revealed. "I washed it while you were asleep. It's hanging up in the bathroom."

"Uhh, thanks."

"I'm telling you this because I want you to put it on."

"Why?"

Minho pulled down the cuff of his right glove to look at his watch. "We've got half an hour, I figure, before Seungmin will leave the house."

Jisung tilted his head. "Okay. How do you know that?"

"I told you"—Minho rinsed off the bucket—"I know him. I've got my strange routines; he's got his. Tuesdays, 1 PM. Seungmin likes to go grocery shopping then." He dumped the bucket once more. "That and he started streaming at 11 and said he was leaving in two hours."

"All right, but do we know _where_?"

"Well, we exactly know where he and Hyunjin live right? There's a grocery store a few streets down. Seems like a safe bet he'll go there."

"Let me guess. You've watched him go there through his phone or something."

"Close." Minho smirked. "Through Hyunjin's. Haven't been able to hijack Seungmin's."

Jisung raised a brow. "That's new."

Minho only shrugged. "Hurry up and get dressed. We don't have time to waste."

"Right." The younger obediently rushed to the downstairs bathroom. Hanging from the shower rod with a set of hangers were his blazer, dress shirt, tie, and pants. He dressed as fast as he could, despite the fact that the suit was still somewhat damp.

No later than twenty minutes later, they were in the car together once more. Minho pulled to a stop down from the main road, on which was the supermarket. They both sat still for a few minutes before Jisung finally let himself ask,

"How do we know he'll drive past us?"

"We don't," Minho admitted. "But this is the optimal route."

"So we're waiting here on the off chance that he follows the 'optimal route'?"

"Do you have a better idea?"

"Not do something stupid? How about that?"

Minho let out a low, dismissive hum and looked out through the window. Again the cat head was on, though it seemed fluffier than before. Had the painter blow-dried it? Before Jisung could determine this, the driver side door opened and Minho stepped out of the car.

"Min"—the door slammed shut before Jisung could even finish saying his name. The painter then paced around the front of the car before crouching down beside the passenger side. Jisung brought the window down with the push of a button before leaning over to stick his head out.

"What are you doing?"

The squinty cat eyes shot up to meet his. "What am I supposed to do? Step out of the car as he's driving by? He can't see me until I lunge out at him."

The younger felt his eyes bulge in surprise. "'Lunge out' at him? Minho, he's in a _car_. He will mow you down."

"I won't let him do that."

Jisung shook his head and pulled his head back into the car. Arms crossed, he groaned, "This is by far the stupidest thing you've ever done."

"Then why don't you try to stop me?"

"Because I know you won't let me."

Minho smiled at that. "Seems I've taught you well, Hannie."

"Shut up."

The cat ears seemed to twitch as Minho's head did. "Wait. Someone's coming." With that the painter grabbed the elongated limbs of the mask and yanked them down. Jisung glanced through the rearview window. A dark red car turned the corner, heading toward them. In the driver's seat sat Seungmin.

_Turn around_ , Jisung thought, wishing he could scream the words to him. _Go back while you can._

Alas, the younger didn't have telepathy, so Seungmin didn't take notice of the warnings. A few feet down the road later, as he was coming up on the car Jisung sat in, Minho crawled around the car. Jumping to his feet, the painter dashed out onto the middle of the road. Seungmin's car swerved to avoid him, then crashed head on into a telephone pole. The sound of the smashing metal and shattering glass made both of them twitch. As if surprised, Minho looked back toward Jisung. He shrugged.

"Whoops," he said, then laughed. "I didn't mean for that to happen."

"Then what _did_ you mean?" Jisung shouted back to be heard.

That got Minho thinking, but his response wound up being only another shrug. The pink cat paws gestured for Jisung to get out of the car. With reluctance, the artist did.

"Play the character," Minho hushed as he approached, "in case Hyunjin's listening thru call."

Jisung didn't agree with this plan, but then, like always, he didn't have any other choice, so he played along. They stepped over to the car and found most of the windows shattered. Minho used this to his advantage, to open the driver's side door. Seungmin was barely conscious. Somehow he'd hurt his nose, as it was bleeding. The airbag was blown out in front of him, but was starting to deflate. His phone was clipped onto the dash, in a Discord call with Hyunjin. They couldn't hear anything on Hyunjin's end, though. To be on the safe side, Jisung did Dash's voice and tried to remain in character. This was a bit difficult for him, since Minho was the one who wrote Dash's lines in the game. Improvisation wasn't a strong suit of his.

"Well, well," he taunted. "Look what the cat dragged in! If it isn't little Buttons. Come on, I'll take good care of you back at my clubhouse."

Minho nodded at him, confirming this would do. Reaching over, he grabbed Seungmin's phone and stopped the call. He then helped Jisung drag the boy, who'd by then fallen unconscious, into the backseat of their car. "Drive back home," he ordered. "Do you think you can lift him on your own?"

"Um, I think I can though he has strong built of body. If he wakes up—"

"Don't worry, he'll be out like a light long enough," Minho assured. "Put him in the basement. Use the chains." He was referring to some dungeon-esque chains he'd installed on one of the basement walls. They'd always confused Jisung, not only due to their dated usage, but because he'd had two sets installed.

_I mean, if he plans to take Hyunjin, too, then I guess it comes in handy..._

"You want me to chain him to the wall on my own?"

"I know you can do it." Minho took off the cat head and kissed Jisung on the lips. On went the head again after. "I've got to take off. I'll text you."

"Do I _want_ to know where you're going?"

"It's time for a stakeout." With that, Minho ran off, but in the wrong direction. Jisung huffed and rolled his eyes.

_Bastard's always evading questions like that..._

The artist got into the driver's seat of their gray car and buckled his seatbelt. To his surprise, he found himself more concerned about his ability to drive than the unconscious man in the backseat. As he'd never had a car of his own, he'd never learned how to drive. What little he knew was from movies and watching Minho.

_Okay, Jisung, get a grip. You don't have all the time in the world here. Start driving._ But he hesitated. _What if I do something wrong?_

Those words always found their way into his head before doing something new. What if he did something wrong? What if he fucked up somehow and made Minho angry? Then again, wallowing in weakening indecision wouldn't help his case, either. With one hand on the ignition key and the other in some fingers against his lips, he sat frozen.

_How could I possibly mock up something as simple as driving a car? I must've seen Minho do it a hundred times. Lino a thousand more!_

Whatever confidence he'd been trying to build crumbled at the memory of his late ex-boyfriend, he'd had a car, too, even wanted to teach him to drive on the down-low. Despite how he broke up with him, he'd still been friends with him. Right as it looked they might finally let the past stay in the past, though, Minho, who has the same actual looks of him, murdered him. He'd sent Jisung pictures of his corpse. Two days later, he'd run away with the psychotic painter.

_Run away? I didn't do that_ , he argued with himself. _I tried to kill myself, but failed. He whisked me away. Kidnapped me!_

Jisung, troubled, glanced over his seat, at the guy lying unconscious. They were kidnapping him, too, much in the same way. An underlying fear of Jisung's had always been—always would be—that one day Minho would abduct someone to replace him. What would happen to him, then? Would he face murder by Minho's cold, cruel hands?

With a bitter scowl, Jisung turned the key in the ignition. It was easy to convince himself that he was acting out of mere self-defense. If chaining Seungmin up would give him more time in safety, he'd do it. Still, there was a small part of him that realized a different reason.

_Minho said he knows him. He even knows what time he goes to the store. What is Seungmin to him?_ He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, unable to stop this blossoming of jealousy in his heart. _Minho doesn't watch streamers, so how does he know him so damn well?_

The car moved forward in his control, to the next intersection, following Minho. Then, he turned left. The painter was rushing down the street a few ahead, but at the next crossroads, Jisung turned left again.

_Time to go home and wait. Oh, I'm going to have fun tying Seungmin up now._

He sped past down to the street where Hyunjin and Seungmin's home can be located, intent on turning left twice more to start driving back to the hi-way road. As he reached the intersection, though, someone ran out in front of the car. In his shock he almost wasn't able to slam on the brakes in time, but still managed to screech to a halt mere inches from them.

To his surprise, it was _Hyunjin_. He did nothing but stare at the streamer, gripping the steering wheel tight.

_This is it. We're screwed. He's going to see Seungmin in the backseat. If I drive away now, can we get away with this? If I slam on the accelerator and take Hyunjin out now, would Minho be angry? I don't think angry would be strong enough a word. He'd be livid._

Instead, though, the long-haired guy just screamed and cursed at him. After kicking the front bumper, he took off the in direction of the street Jisung had come from. After a few seconds, the younger shook himself out of his stunned state and continued to drive.

Once home, he found a way to drag Seungmin out of the car by wrapping his arms under the unconscious guy's shoulders. It took a lot of work, and he thought several times that Seungmin would wake up and deck him. But soon he'd managed to get Seungmin into the basement with only a few bruises and scrapes. Despite being worn out from dragging such taller than him so far, he did as he was asked and chained Seungmin to the wall. It was a lot easier to lock the metal cuffs in place around his wrists than he'd expected.

Minho's basement was an interesting place, to say the least. There were various devices for torture and murder in the back, where he was now. The front, though, looked like any other. Yet, Jisung always felt uncomfortable down there, so as soon as he knew Seungmin was secure, he left.

It wasn't until 2:30 in the morning, when Jisung was half-asleep at the kitchen table, that Minho finally sent a text. Of course, it was asking him to send a picture of Seungmin. He was about to refuse, but before doing so, he looked at the date. October 31st.

Doomsday.

Jisung gulped. He had no clue if Minho intended to kill Hyunjin now or wait until March. Regardless, he headed down into the basement with his phone and took a picture of Seungmin in chains. He didn't get a reply until 3:01.

"Come pick us up," Minho's text ordered. Jisung grabbed the car keys and left to obey his command. It seemed Hyunjin would live, at least for a few more hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading and for patiently waiting!! not sure if i can update next week but there is a big chance. (tho i'm actually nervous to where will this story lead up. skjggfghddf)


	18. i think my mask of sanity is about to slip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: rape attempt, blackmailing.
> 
> again, rape attempt and blackmailing. fcked up minho is here everyone.
> 
> feel free not to read if you feel uncomfortable,, thanks!

"Hyunjin? Hyunjin, wake up!"

The sound of Seungmin's voice woke Hyunjin up. His vision was blurry, and his head hurt. He tried to move his arms, but they were held above his head. The sound of chains rattling was abrasive to his ears. With a groan, he buried his face into the sleeve of his left arm. He wanted to go back to sleep. His shoulders ached.

"Oh, thank God. Talk to me, Hyunjin!"

"Mm, I'm here," Hyunjin moaned. He tried to look around, but it did no good, as his head hurted from whatever reason. All he could make out was a lot of gray and a light above him. Since he heard Seungmin to his right, he looked in that direction and squinted. Sure enough, the younger was there, on his knees. His arms were up above his head, too.

All at once, he remembered what had led up to this: the car accident, the game, Dash knocking him out. Seeing the blurry silhouette of Seungmin was enough to earn a relieved titter from him. "Oh God, Seungmin. I thought you were dead!"

"I could say the same about you!" Seungmin responded with full of concern.

"Where are we?"

"Some basement... or a torture chamber. I don't know! I was driving to the store and this creepy orange cat jumped in front of the car. Next thing I know, I'm here!"

"Do you saw him too? That half human half cat?"

Seungmin sighed. "Someone dressed like him, yeah."

"Has squinty eyes?"

The younger glanced at him, or at least, it looked like he did. "He came after you?"

"He snuck into the house while I was out looking for you," Hyunjin admitted. "I thought he was going to kill me."

Seungmin tugged at his chains; Hyunjin heard them rattle. Then, he huffed and asked, "You can't get out of yours either, huh?"

Hyunjin tried tugging against his restraints with all his strength. "No," he answered when he got no result.

"Damn. We have to get out of here... somehow."

Not having any other ideas, Hyunjin tried to stand. Using the chains as supports, he was able to pull himself to his feet, though he had to slouch to keep them from tugging. He wobbled. The blow to the head had scrambled his brain a bit more than he'd thought.

_I wonder what he hit me with._

That was when they heard someone coming down the stairs. Both of them tensed at the sound.

"Sounds like we've got company," Seungmin griped. "Get back down onto your knees."

Hyunjin didn't obey.

"Hyunjin, get down!"

"No. I'm not backing away from this fucker!"

On the other side of the basement, someone descended to their level. It sounded like they were using a cane. They didn't need to get very close before Hyunjin was able to recognize their silhouette.

_It's him. It's the guy from the car! He's the one who kidnapped Seungmin to begin with!_

"You!" the oldest of them all snapped, his face furious. "Are you behind all this, huh?"

"So you can stand," the stranger observed, ignoring Hyunjin's question altogether. Present in his voice was deep; he somehow reminded him of Dash's voice. He must be the one who caused all of this. "I don't think we took your height into account..." He approached. The streamer wanted to knee and kick the guy, but decided against it. After a second, the stranger stood closer and gently pushed away some strands of his hair that were blocking his face.

"Get away!" Hyunjin flinched. It was as he was doing this that he realized something wasn't right: _this guy's a little bit short to have been the guy who attacked me. Whoever dressed as Dash was almost the same height with Seungmin. Does that mean there's two of them?_

Hyunjin's request was ignored. The streamer blinked a few times and looked at the man in front of him. He was wearing a crisp black suit with a white dress shirt and black tie. His hair was black, messy and fluffy in a good way. His face was rather delicate for a man's, but he had dark rings under his eyes that made him look exhausted. This guy didn't look like a killer. That was what threw Hyunjin off. It wasn't adding up in his head. How was this guy involved?

The stranger pulled his hand away and introduced himself: "Name's Jisung." He grabbed Hyunjin's left hand in both of his and shook it. "Big fan of you guys."

"You sure have a funny way of showing it," spat Seungmin.

Jisung glanced down at the younger. He had a small smile on his face, but if Hyunjin didn't know any better, his eyes looked sad. "To be honest, I'm sorry you two played the game," he confessed.

"You're the one who suggested it in the first place, aren't you?" Seungmin accused. "You were that person in chat!"

"I don't have an account," Jisung pointed out. "Besides, I would never suggest my own game to someone. Especially not when it leads to this. I condemn the person who recommended you play Dashing Cat." Then, his tone changed from remorseful to bitter. "But you two could've backed out. You had every chance to do so while you were mocking it."

Hyunjin snarled. "Don't guilt _us_ about this. We aren't the ones who resorted to causing car crashes and kidnapping people!"

Jisung stared. For a moment, he said nothing. They heard someone else beginning to come down the steps; this sound made the guy sigh.

"This is the part where most people start begging."

A handsome man came down into the basement. Hyunjin and Seungmin both recognized him the moment they saw his suit, which was the same as Dash's. He had black hair slicked down. In his left hand, he held a glass of wine. He somehow looked like an innocent guy. Well, looks could deceive anyways.

Hyunjin could think of nothing to say anymore. Speechless, he glanced at Seungmin. That was how he noticed the alien expression on his face. It was one of so many mixed emotions that it was impossible to identify which was most prominent.

"Seungmin? Seungmin, what's wrong?"

Once he stepped off of the stairs, the new stranger approached and took a drink of his wine. When he saw Jisung, he went to the nearest table and put the glass down there. 

"I see you've met Jisung," he said. His sharp eyes fell onto Seungmin, at which point he tilted his head in some sort of affection? Hyunjin couldn't understand why, not until the youngest of them finally spoke.

"Minho hyung?" His voice, usually dry and composed, was now a mere whimper. It looked like he was about to cry.

"Seungminnie," replied Minho. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Three years, by my estimate. Haven't seen you since college!"

The word "college" made Hyunjin's heart sink. He glanced at Seungmin again, this time in a mix of pity and surprise.

"So that's how you know him?" inquired Jisung, who sounded a bit amused somehow.

"Yes. Seungmin and I shared a dorm." Seungmin started shaking his head, which made the psychopath stop grinning. "Why are you shaking your head? I thought you'd be happy to see me."

"You son of a bitch," sobbed the younger. His teary eyes swung up to glare at Minho.

"What? What's the matter?"

"I was just starting to forget you. I was starting to move on, to accept that you were a part of my past. A _good_ part. And now..."

The man crouched down in front of him. "And now you're chained up in my basement." A few pats on Seungmin's cheek. "It's a small world after all, isn't it?"

"You made the game?" Hyunjin demanded.

"Bingo. Couldn't have done it without Jisung, though. I might know how to code and hack, but I don't have the patience to make a game." Minho stood. "Would've been more convenient as a virus, to be honest. But that wouldn't have been quite as interesting."

"All this to see me again?" There was bitterness in Seungmin's voice now. "You could've called me. I never changed my phone number."

Minho laughed, "Don't flatter yourself, Seungmin" he teased. "I can assure you: you were no more than a pleasant surprise."

The younger tugged limply at his restraints. "Is _this_ what you did with your bachelor's degree?"

"Better than not using it at all, sitting around rotting my brain with video games all day."

"I never _got_ my degree," countered Seungmin, smirking through his retaliation.

"Oh? Did you fail after all that, or did you really not have a case study?"

"I dropped out, because my case study got his degree. Might've kept a closer eye on him afterward if I'd known he'd use it to kidnap people."

That got rid of Minho's smirk. He took a step back. "Oh. I see. _I_ was your... ? Well, if you didn't predict this, then I guess you weren't that good at reading me." Then, he turned his attention onto Hyunjin. "I don't think we've been properly introduced. I'm Lee Minho, the proud creator of Dashing Cat. Nice to meet you."

"Let us go," the long-haired guy ordered angrily.

"Oh, I likely won't get around to _that_ , Hwang. Why would you want to leave now, anyway? The fun's only just starting."

"Whole lot of fun _this_ is. We're chained to the walls of your kink dungeon!"

Minho stopped, seemed surprised by that title. "I thought the go-to title would've been 'torture chamber'," he muttered, "but sure. 'Kink dungeon' seems fitting enough. I can dig 'kink dungeon'." He stepped closer and stared down at him. With his free hand, he cupped Hyunjin's chin. Then, he leaned in closer.

"You know, you're thinner than I expected," he said.

He moves his face aggressively on the side, not wanting to be touched by Minho. "Don't touch me!" 

Minho stood up straight and laughed as he witness the facade expression of the younger guy. "You're a wild one, aren't you? I take it. No worries. I like that." He lifted his hand again and used it to caress Hyunjin's cheek. This caused the streamer to squirm in discomfort. The man looked down at the two belts on the left side of his jeans. The top one was green, and the bottom one was dark blue. He reached his hand down as he brought his hand to stroke the straps. "What are these for? Decoration?"

"Not gonna tell you," Hyunjin stammered. All of a sudden, he felt uncomfortable for a different reason. Minho looked him over from head to toe like prey. It was almost as if he was undressing him with his eyes. He had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. He felt like he would be sick.

"Hyung, no," begged Seungmin, much to Hyunjin's distress. If even Seungmin was begging...

"They're nice," Minho commented. Without saying anything more, he reached up to the top button of Hyunjin's red shirt and started to undo it. All at once, the blonde flushed with panic, trying to kick at the man in front of him. His attempt to reach up and stop this was foiled by the cuffs around his wrists, holding his arms straight down. So, he squirmed from side to side. This did little to deter Minho, who tugged the shirt forward to continue unbuttoning it.

"What are you doing?!!" Hyunjin yelled. "Stop it!"

"Hey!" Seungmin resumed struggling at his own restraints. "Let go of him! Stop it!!" In response, Minho glared at Seungmin. 

"Let go of m"—Hyunjin was cut off when Minho's lips locked with his. He proceeded to struggle harder, but his kicks proved futile as Minho pressed himself closer. The older guy tugged on his own tie and ripped it off, throwing it to the side, toward Seungmin. Then, he held the side of Hyunjin's head and began kissing him deeper. Hyunjin didn't return the gesture. He tried to throw his head from side to side, but it didn't help.

"Stop it!" Seungmin cried out. "You fucking...!" He managed to turn himself around, crossing the chains over one another, and tried to use his feet to pull harder at them. He only wound up hurting his hands by doing this, but he kept trying. All the while, he screamed curses at Minho.

"Fucking let him go, or I swear to _God_!"

Between kisses, "Jealous, Seungmin?" 

"No! Stop it!"

Minho now ignored Seungmin and reached down. With his right hand, he cupped Hyunjin's groin. Hyunjin twitched, but couldn't do much else to fight. Jisung watched, idle, until Minho undid the blonde's pants and was about to fully pulled it down. At that point, he finally speak, loud enough that the painter realized he was watching.

"Stop!" Jisung comes closer to Minho's side. "Stop it, Minho." So, the painter stopped what he was doing and slowly turned his head to look at Jisung. The smaller guy had his shaking hand clutching over the handle of his cane, staring in apparent nervousness.

"Oh," he spoke in a casual way to his partner. "Right. You're still here." He looked at Hyunjin, then back at Jisung. After looking the suited young man up from head to toe, he hummed in thought. "You know, it would be hot to see _you_ doing this, Jisung."

"What?" snarled Jisung. "You want to try explaining to me what the hell exactly do you mean?"

"I want to see you suck him off."

Jisung's eyes widened. "Are you even listening to yourself?"

"Why, what's the matter?"

"I'm not going to suck Hyunjin's dick!"

Minho walked to the other side of the room and picked up a knife from the table. Then, he returned to Hyunjin and grabbed his hair, ripping his head up. The stainless steel blade slid up to Hyunjin's throat, causing Jisung to tense up in fear, his eyes almost closing.

"You _will_ ," he instructed, "or I'll kill him now. You know I will."

Jisung let out a deep, nervous sigh as he fully opened his eyes and glared at Minho. It was almost as if he was _daring_ him to do it. For a long beat, all four of them were dead silent. Hyunjin kept still, Seungmin stopped struggling, Minho remained composed, Jisung stood his ground. The psychopathic painter pressed the knife closer to Hyunjin's throat.

"Don't test me, Jisung. Today _is_ a doomsday, after all."

The younger now turned his attention to Hyunjin intently and did approach, albeit with hesitation. His own expression was sharp but his eyes saying otherwise. Minho smiled at him—a pure, innocent smile.

"There we go. Down on your knees, now."

Hyunjin shouted and kicked Jisung's cane out of his hand. It hit Minho, then fell to the ground near Seungmin, who only wished he could reach it. The artist stared at Hyunjin with wide eyes while Minho laughed.

"You know he doesn't _need_ the cane, right? It helps him, but it's more or less there for the sake of looking posh."

Jisung sneered with his serious voice. "Shut up, Minho. You're the _reason_ I need it. I wouldn't need it at all if it wasn't for you."

"Hush. On your knees."

"I'll kick you," Hyunjin warned. "Don't touch me, whore!"

Minho frowned and looked at Jisung. "He just called you a whore. Are you just going to let him call you that?"

Jisung shot him a look of disapproval. "What would you like me to do? Teach him a lesson by sucking his dick?"

"Prove him wrong by sucking his dick like a champion. Whores suck at sucking dick."

"Well, I would hope they _do_ suck, Minho."

"On your knees," Minho stressed with a tinge of amusement. He put his palm down onto Jisung's head and pushed, forcing him to buckle his legs and crouch. "There." He took a few steps back. "Take your time. Work him up."

"Touch him and you're dead!" warned Seungmin.

"Shut up, Seungmin."

Jisung stared at Hyunjin's crotch. Of course, the streamer was flaccid—he could tell that much even through his briefs. Jisung was also flaccid. In fact, he was quite sure he'd never been more flaccid than he was right now. Something about all this felt wrong. He didn't find Hyunjin sexually attractive; raping him was not the right way to go about changing that.

"Jisung?" inquired Minho. "What are you waiting for?"

"I can't do this."

"Why not?"

Jisung glared back at him. "For one, I'm not into this such kind of things! I _don't_ want this!"

The sigh Minho let out alone expressed how sick he was of hearing this from Jisung. "Hannie, we have sex every other night. We even fucked yesterday. For sure you will love it, unlike the way you feel to Lino who even didn't gave a damn on fucking you."

Jisung shot to his feet upon hearing his name. "How _dare_ you? How _dare_ you bring him up?" he bellowed in fury. "You're trying to force me to suck some guy's cock, and you have the _audacity_ to bring up my ex-boyfriend? Who _you killed_?!"

Silence had again surrounded the basement. Realizing he'd struck a nerve and that his attempt to force Jisung into performing oral would go nowhere fast, he dropped it. So, instead, he crooned, "Let's go upstairs and talk about it over breakfast, shall we?" He approached Jisung and wrapped his arm over his shoulders. Jisung pulled away in anger and walk out of the basement, which was followed by the older, not noticing the cane that was scattered on the floor. Meanwhile, Hyunjin tried to pick up his pants. That was easier said than done, though, with his hands restrained.

Once they were alone in the basement, Seungmin glanced at Hyunjin with his sad, worried eyes and asked, "Are you okay?"

Hyunjin didn't answer. His face was flushed from a mixture of shame and confusion at what had almost happened. He still had his briefs on, but wanted—and kept trying—to raise his pants back up.

"I'm so sorry. This is all my fault," lamented the younger as he threw his head back. It struck the wall, but not too hard. "This never would've happened if I hadn't pointed out that suggestion! Why didn't I ignore it? Hyunjin, I'm so sorry. I wish he'd at least let _you_ go..."

Whatever happened, Hyunjin only hoped that Minho wouldn't do what he did again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading even though this chapter is so fcked up ><
> 
> little spoiler: something about seungmin and minho's past story will be revealed next chapter! let's witness it next week! byers!


	19. and all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [!!!] TW: physical abuse. presence of blood.

Along with a plate of pancakes, Minho gave Jisung a glass of red wine. This confused Jisung, since it wasn't even eight in the morning yet. He half expected the typical "five o'clock somewhere" excuse, but Minho ignored him outright. Instead of replying, he poured himself some wine as well. Jisung stared at him until Minho finally decided to speak.

"I figured it would take the edge off. You seem stressed."

Rather than fly off of the handle, Jisung held his tongue. He was too tired to argue. It was bad enough that he hadn't been sleeping well as of late to begin with.

"I don't drink," he responded. "I thought you would've known that by now."

"Trust me, it'll help," Minho assured.

With reluctance, Jisung brought the glass to his lips and took a sip. The liquid was bitter, as he'd anticipated but worse. He had to force himself to swallow the small amount that'd found its way into his mouth.

Minho sat down across from him. He had a plate of eggs and bacon. The way he started eating was too casual. It was almost like he hadn't attempted to rape one of the two people chained up in the basement five minutes earlier. Jisung was still upset about that, but he picked up his cutlery and cut himself a triangle of a pancake. Upon spearing it with his fork's prongs, though, he hesitated.

_I'm not hungry. Not at all._

He chewed idly on the inside of his lower lip before glancing up from his plate to Minho. The older guy ate his eggs and bacon with a Victorianesque combination of speed and grace. He didn't appear at all fazed by Jisung's staring.

When the younger guy realized he was scraping his fork back and forth across his plate, he stopped himself. Then, he asked in a low voice that dripped with false casualness, "What was all that about?"

Minho took another bite of his eggs. After he swallowed, he glanced up at Jisung as if innocent. "What do you mean?"

He did his best to remain patient, but the smile on his face was not one of amusement. "What you did to Hyunjin. That"—he paused to keep his composure—"wasn't part of the plan."

Minho shrugged and picked up his wine glass. Before he drank, he said, "I don't see a problem with changing things up a little."

Jisung glared at him. "And you even had the audacity to bring up my ex-boyfriend? Who you have killed?" He put down his fork on his plate, then rapped his fingers against the table. This gesture did nothing to attract the attention of the painter, who only chugged his wine. It might've impressed Jisung, were he not so furious. Though he had to admit it was somewhat worrying, as well. Minho drank sometimes, but never so much. What would happen if he got drunk? The younger man picked up his own wine glass, but wasn't sure why; he didn't want to drink anymore of it.

When he finished all the wine in his glass, Minho exhaled and put it down. Then, he leaned back in his chair and gazed at Jisung. He said nothing. For a long moment, both of them were dead silent as they stared at each other. Then, without warning, Minho chirped, "You know, Hyunjin reminds me a lot of you."

Jisung stood up from his chair so fast that it fell backwards, then whipped his wine glass into the wall. It shattered and wine droplets flew everywhere, some even splashing onto his face. He didn't care, though.

"You never discussed this with me!" He screamed at Minho, who didn't even flinch. "Do you think I'm okay with this? Didn't you realize I was right _fucking_ there, _watching_ you? This is fucked up even for you, Minho! Even for _you_!" When he realized that Minho was smirking at him, he pointed at him and raged on. "You are a sick, twisted man, dare I even call you that! You _disgust_ me!"

"Then leave," Minho offered. He sounded pleasant and smug, as if he knew Jisung would never consider it. "I've never tried to stop you from leaving. You're the one who keeps coming back here. The one who keeps calling anywhere I am 'home'."

Jisung curled his index finger back, balling his hand into a fist. His jaw quivered. Minho had a point. If he argued, he'd be contradicting his own actions. Already having realized this, Minho leaned forward. He placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin atop his interlocked hands.

"I think you're jealous, Jisung."

"Jealous?" Jisung spat the word, but remained frozen with his fist extended toward Minho. "I'm not jealous. Why would I be?"

"Because I'm all you have, and those two threaten the security you have in knowing that I'm yours and yours alone."

Jisung's eyes widened. It frightened him to feel Minho's words resonating with him. He hadn't realized it, but that seemed to be the _exact_ reason he was so upset. It wasn't because he was doing something so atrocious. It was because he was afraid of losing him. If Minho lost interest in him, he'd have nothing left... never mind the fact that Minho would likely murder him. The painter's handsome, dark smirk grew as he saw Jisung's face pale. He stood up and leaned over the table, toward Jisung, before stroking his cheek.

"Don't worry," he assured in a loving croon. "Your d-day will always be my favorite. Nothing can ever change that."

The younger reached up with his extended hand and brought it up to rest over Minho's. They stared into each other's eyes. That was when he had a thought that he'd never had before.

_I want to hear you say you love me..._

One word. One word that'd never occurred to him, not since moving in with Minho. Not since he attempted suicide by jumping out of his apartment window two years prior. "Love". It's presence in his mind now horrified him. His mouth opened without him realizing it.

"I"—was all that was able to escape his lips before he snapped them shut.

"Yes?" Minho asked. The way he stroked Jisung's cheek made him hot under the collar; he felt his face starting to flush. A loving caress, yes, but also lustful. It ashamed him, the way it made his heart race.

"You're trembling, Hannie. What's the matter?"

"Nothing," he stammered. "It's nothing."

"Are you sure?" husked the taller guy as he leaned closer. His eyes drifted half shut as the tip of his nose touched Jisung's. The question almost seemed to have two sides to it—in part searching for confirmation, but also asking if Jisung was thinking the same thing. A shiver ran down Jisung's spine. He opened his mouth again.

"Yeah," he breathed against Minho's lips, answering both sides at once. Minho responded by kissing Jisung deeply. Throwing caution to the wind, Jisung kissed back without any hesitance. The table wound up being too much of an obstruction, so Minho broke the connection and walked around to Jisung's side. He grabbed the younger man and pushed him back, pinning him against the wall to continue kissing him. As his tongue found its way into Jisung's mouth, he rubbed up against him. Their tongues wrestled as if frenzied. All Jisung could taste was wine, but it was somehow sweeter now.

As they made out, Minho pulled off Jisung's tie. Then, they started to undress each other. They threw their suit jackets and dress shirts down to the floor, careless and blind. Minho turned and pushed their plates aside before pulling Jisung off the wall and throwing him down onto the table. As they rushed to undo their belts, Jisung quipped between gasps: "Are we doing this in the dining room _again_? You went crazy cleaning it this morning..."

"Seems like a bad habit," Minho admitted. "But I'm not about to stop." He grabbed Jisung's wrists in a rough grip and tugged his arms up above his head. He was equally rough with his legs, tugging his pants off like his life depended on it before lifting them up. Though, he stopped short. When he ducked down, Jisung heard clothes rustling.

_Right. His obsession with using a condom._

Minho came back up, only empty handed. He looked a bit troubled.

"What is it?" Jisung panted.

"I'm out," he mumbled.

"Forget it. It's not like I can get pregnant."

This only made the painter more uncertain. "I know. But..."

"Come on." Jisung reached up and dug his fingers into his dark messy hair. "Fuck me already, Minho."

There was still reluctance on his face, but with a deep breath, Minho collected himself. Before entering, he spat into his palm and rubbed his arousal to lubricate it. As he did this, he gently stroked Jisung's with his other hand. This friction earned a few short moans from the artist. He'd always been loud; neither of them saw that changing anytime soon. Minho loved it when he let out erotic sounds, anyway.

Jisung felt the painter's grab at his narrow hips, then lean in closer. A second later, the familiar feeling of his member sliding into him caused him to emit a brief cry. Minho's palm was flat against the table to brace himself as he slid out a bit to pound back into him. Jisung's hand twitched and managed to find the man's tense forearm, which it clung to. His nails dug into the skin, but pain only made Minho more eager.

"Harder," he cried out in ecstasy. "Oh _God_ , ah. Harder, Minho!"

Minho was about to oblige when, all of a sudden, something made him stop.

"What the hell is _wrong_ with you two?" It was faint, but still audible. The sound of Seungmin screaming at them from downstairs caused them both to freeze. For a beat, neither of them moved. Then, Jisung raised his head.

"Can they hear us?" he asked while struggling to stabilize his breathing.

Minho looked as concerned as he did, to his surprise. "I didn't think so, but I guess they can. I mean, the basement isn't soundproof."

Jisung's face flushed in a mixture of shame, rage, and embarrassment. "Fuck, Minho!" he shouted and started hitting at him. Minho understood and pulled out before taking a step back to let him sit up.

"Fine. Let's deal with this, then," Minho suggested as he pulled his pants back up. "Bring your cane with you."

"Okay," Jisung accepted, blissfully unaware that he and Minho had wildly different ideas of what "dealing with it" implied. He tried to find his cane, until he remembered that Hyunjin kicked it away from him. So, he decided to proceed on putting his clothes. 

After putting on his pants, he reached for his shirt, but Minho stopped him.

"Forget it."

"Shouldn't I get dressed first?"

"Pants alone are fine. Come on."

Jisung frowned. When Minho hurried ahead of him, he put on his suit jacket despite his remark and ended up followed Minho down. It was colder down there than anywhere else in the house, so he was happy he'd brought the blazer.

Hyunjin continued to sit meekly on the floor. Somehow he'd managed to pull his pants back up, though his shirt remained open. Judging by the bleeding of his wrists and the scrapes on the floor, Seungmin had been struggling to break free. It was difficult to tell if he'd made any progress, but Jisung assumed he hadn't. They both stared at him and Minho with contempt, though Hyunjin's was diluted by a layer of fear.

Remebering the cane that he had left, Jisung walk to where his cane can be located. Minho, on the other hand, approached Seungmin with his hands behind his back. "What was that, Seungmin?" he asked. There was a level of impatience in his voice that Jisung had never heard before, and it made him a bit nervous.

The younger shook his head in either protest or disgust. "What's wrong with you? Get a goddamned room."

"You _are_ jealous, aren't you?" the painter hummed.

"Not anymore. No reason to be now that I understand you."

Minho scowled. "Understand me? You don't 'understand' me."

"Don't I?" Seungmin's gaze shifted onto Jisung, though he still spoke to Minho. "For one, you're an avid fan of coincidences."

Minho said nothing; followed Seungmin's eyes onto Jisung. When he did, the younger looked back at him.

"Do you think I didn't notice?"

The painter blinked. Jisung fidgeted under his gaze. Then, he turned his head and looked back at Seungmin. "Notice what? There's nothing for you to notice."

"Oh, don't play dumb, hyung. You and I both know he looks like—"

"Shut up." Minho cut Seungmin off with the brusque demand. He'd said enough to make Jisung curious, though. The artist looked back and forth between them.

"Look like who?"

"Ignore him, Jisung."

Seungmin scowled. "Peter."

"Shut up!" The shout made Jisung jolt in fear.

_Fuckin' hell. I've never heard him scream like that..._

"He deserves to know he's only a replacement!"

"Seungmin, I'm warning you!"

"You always were, weren't you?" the youngest of them shouted back. "You were always trying to warn me, but I never believed you! Never believed you could be right! Never realized what a sick fucker you are!" He shook his head. "I never liked Peter, but now I feel sorry for him. I can only imagine what you did to him in private. Were you planning to kidnap him, too? Was I your only obstacle?"

The look on Minho's face was not one Jisung could readily describe. Whatever it was, it looked foreign on him.

"Drop the subject, Seungmin," he warned. "Or else I'll kill Hyunjin and make you watch."

"You don't have the _goddamned_ guts!" Seungmin countered.

"Minho, who's he talking about?"

"Shut the fuck up, Jisung! This doesn't involve you!"

Chastised, Jisung went back to being as quiet as Hyunjin.

Seungmin took a shaky, emotional breath. "God, I... I can still remember what he looked like when he fell..."

"Jisung, give me your cane."

The younger tensed up and looked at Minho. Though he didn't want to disobey, he was afraid of what Minho would do. "No."

"Seungmin, stop talking," Hyunjin warned as his first interjection. Seungmin didn't react to it, though.

"He landed right next to me... and then I looked up and saw you standing there, looking out of his window." With tears now falling down his face, Seungmin glared at Minho. "And I _believed_ your story! I believed that you were there to stop him. That not being able to hurt you. That you _cared_! I thought your lack of grief was out of trauma, but why did it affect me more than you? We both watched him die, but I didn't even like him! You didn't even come down to check on him!"

"Check on him?" Minho's question was on an incredulous breath. Then, suddenly, he was shouting too. "What more did you fucking want from me, Seungmin? For me to go down there and laugh at him for not being able to fly, or whatever the _fuck_ he thought that'd accomplish? I tried to talk him down, but he wouldn't listen to me!" The painter took a breath of his own, one that quivered. "It didn't affect anyone more than it affected me, Seungmin. Don't you _dare_ think different! His was the first death I couldn't control—the first I didn't _want_!"

But Seungmin shook his head. "No. No, I think you're lying. I _know_ you're lying."

"Oh, and how do you know that, you stupid bastard?"

"If Peter's death was a suicide..." He glanced at Jisung again. "...then you wouldn't have sought out his lookalike."

"What the fuck does that prove?"

"I know you, Minho. You don't keep bad memories around."

"Stop saying you know me! You don't!"

"You gave me the wine we shared."

Those words brought a somber, stunned look to Minho's face. For once, he seemed speechless.

"I was always the bad memory. Never useful, only something you were happy to cut out of your life. I know too much about you. You don't think it's safe to have any connections with me, because sooner or later, I'll figure out your true colors. Well, I've figured them out now. What did you do to Peter while I was away that night? Did you mean for me to see the body? I mean, you must've."

"Don't make me do this."

"Tell me the truth."

"I've told you. You saw it yourself."

"I don't believe you! Peter didn't commit suicide, did he?"

Before Jisung could react, Minho reached over and clutched Seungmin's hair with his hand. He clutched his hair firmly and tightly and formed his other fist in the awe threateningly, as if about to hit Seungmin with it. "Seungmin, if you know what's good for you, you'll stop talking _right now_!"

Then followed a tense staring match. Minho and Seungmin's eyes were locked. They both wore fierce, determined expressions. Jisung and Hyunjin, on the other hand, stared at the two of them in anxiety.

_Something bad is about to happen_ , Jisung thought. _I've never seen Minho this angry... What's he going to do? Should I stop him?_

"You..." Seungmin's face grew more aggressive. "You killed—"

Before he could even finish the accusation, Minho swung his hand, smacking Seungmin in the side of the head. With a pained grunt, the younger tilted to the side, held up by the chains around his wrists. But Minho didn't stop there. He raised his face, punching him over and over.

"Seungmin!" Hyunjin shouted as he struggled against his restraints. " _Seungmin_!"

The painter momentarily stopped, raising the hand up so high that it like almost touched the ceiling. "Come, you spirits that tend on mortal thoughts!" he yelled. "Unsex me here, and fill me from the crown to the toe top full of direst cruelty!" With all the strength he could muster, he slammed his fist down again. This impact resulted in a gore-y cracking sound; Seungmin's cry of pain turned into more of a choked mewl.

"No!" screamed Hyunjin. "No, _no_! Seungmin, _no_!"

With pure panic, Jisung lunged forward and grabbed Minho's arm in an attempt to restrain him. "Stop! Minho, stop it _now_! _Stop_!" But Minho was much stronger than him; it was with ease that he threw Jisung off of himself and slap _him_ with his bloody hand. The blow both knocked Jisung to the floor and then he kicked him against the side of the belly with his feet. The painter then resumed beating Seungmin's face in, though he was already unconscious. Hyunjin continued screaming. When Minho finally stopped, he pointed at him with the bloody finger and roared,

"If you don't shut your _goddamned_ mouth, the thing that will hit _your_ head next is the cane!"

"Seungmin," Hyunjin cried, undeterred.

Minho frowned and looked down at Seungmin... or, he figured, what had _been_ to Seungmin. He'd broken a sweat and lost his sense of control. He wasn't sure how many times he'd hit the younger, or how hard, but the pain he felt on his own fists and the sight of wounds and gushes of red from Seungmin's mouth and lip suggested the answers were _a lot_ and _very_. He's lucky that he hadn't use the cane though. He panted in an attempt to catch his breath and looked back toward where his lover had fallen.

Jisung was sitting up and staring at Seungmin's punched face in both shock and mortification. All that moved were his eyes, as they glanced up to meet Minho's stare. There was blood all over his face, contrary to what Minho had expected. He hadn't thought the everything he did was _that_ bloody... Seungmin's face was bloody. There was blood on him, on his hands and fists too—quite a lot of it. He hummed in thought, then stepped over to Jisung. When his extended hand, an offer to help Jisung up, was ignored, he grabbed him by the arm and tugged him to his feet.

"Come now," he said to him. "Let's go get cleaned up."

Jisung looked terrified. He didn't say anything, nor even move to escape from Minho. The traumatic scene he'd witnessed and experienced had stunned him beyond action. So, Minho took his hand and pulled him along, up the basement stairs, leaving Hyunjin to cry next to Seungmin's bloody, battered head alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry seungmin, i'm sorry hyunjin,,, i'm sorry guys ajdgshjdgsj. will make it up to you at the upcoming chapters. lowkey something good will happen. let's find out what will happen next chapter. ><;;;


	20. i don't wanna play any longer,  game over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!! tw: physical abuse, blood kink, suicide attempt, angst, lick fetish.
> 
> this will going to be a heavy chapter, you've been warned.
> 
> p.s: one or two more chapters to go before it goes to an end. read until the end for more info regarding this fic! again, thanks for anticipating for this story! it really means a lot! AAAAAAAAAAAAA <333

Minho ran the tub in the first floor's bathroom. Jisung sat, dumbfounded, on the edge of the porcelain appliance. As the taller man adjusted the water temperature, making it hotter, he stared down at the tiled floor. Minho had abuse, sure, but never in front of him. What appalled Jisung most, though, was the sheer brutality with which he'd disposed of Seungmin. Something in him had snapped. Though he should've before, Jisung now felt unsafe. The little part of him he'd been ignoring for so long, that wanted to escape, was now at the forefront of his mind. But even now, he still couldn't bring himself to act on it.

Once the water was hot enough, Minho looked at Jisung and smiled. It was a gesture that rubbed the younger man the wrong way. The blood all over him didn't do much to vouch for its innocence.

"Is this good?" he asked about the water temperature. When Jisung didn't answer, he picked up one of the loofas, but then reconsidered and put it back down. Without saying anything else, he crouched down on the floor in front of the younger. He leaned in closer, staring right at him. It made Jisung nervous, so he only stared at him with wide eyes.

"A little water clears us of this deed. How easy is it, then?" Minho raised his hands, which caused Jisung to flinch. His hands went to the sides of Jisung's jaw, turning his head to the left. There was blood all over the right side of Jisung's face. The painter gazed at the congealed patch of red.

"My hands are of your color," he said. "But I shame to wear a heart so white." Then, without warning, he moved closer and gave it a long, seductive lick. The sensation caused Jisung to shiver, then tense up.

Minho husked a laugh into his ear. "His blood tastes sweet off your skin," he whispered. His hands slipped down to Jisung's shoulder, slowly pulling his suit blazer off. The way he dropped it to the floor behind himself was playful and seductive. One of the limbs ran itself down Jisung's chest and stopped at his groin, which it then began to fondle. The younger jolted at the touch.

"Minho, what are you doing?" he asked in moderate discomfort.

"Let's continue where we left off, okay?"

"You just hit a man's head in...!"

"What can I say?" A small bemused hum. "Blood makes me _horny_." The older leaned in closer, which made the younger scared more. 

"You're disgusting. D-don't touch me."

Minho's tongue glided from Jisung's chin, back across the blood, to his ear. Then it pulled away, went backwards, down his gullet. Before he could stop it, he closed his eyes tight and felt himself shiver again. In response, the older guy reached down, again cupping Jisung's groin. Something made the older smile.

"Oh. Have I discovered a fetish?"

"I don't know what you're"—another tantalizing lick, across the other side of his face—"Ahh..."

"You like to be licked? What would you do if I started licking you all over?" He grazed his pink appendage down the side of his neck, stopping at the middle of his chest. The way Jisung shook his head, and at the same time lurched into him somewhat with a stifled gasp was indication enough for him. "Oh, you'd let me, wouldn't you? Because it feels good? It tastes good, too. I'd love to lick you from head to toe."

"M-Minho... Stop... Ahh!" His body twitched when he felt Minho's soft tongue across his nipple. The licks remained localized there for a few long seconds, turning into gentle sucks. Jisung felt dread welling up in his heart at a familiar feeling.

_Oh, Christ—I'm getting hard! He brutally beaten a guy in front of me only a few minutes ago; why am I getting hard? This needs to stop. Stop!_ But it was impossible to argue with his body. His fingers was about to reach around Minho's hair, but he ended up forming his fist, his fingers digging into his palm as a groan escaped his throat. As the torturous sensations continued, he started to sob, though no tears came. The sounds did little to dissuade Minho, though.

"I'm sick," moaned the younger guy in despair. "I'm sick like you. My mind is full of scorpions...."

Minho paused, looked up. He beamed at Jisung, as if pleased by his words, as if proud of someone he had _like_ raised. "Things without all remedy should be without regard," quoth he. "What's done is done." Then he leaned closer, as if to kiss him, but without doing so he slid down onto his knees. Jisung looked down at him, confused and concerned.

He said nothing as he rubbed the artist up through his pants. No briefs on, the touch itself was almost enough to drive him mad. There was so much conflict in his mind.

_I shouldn't want this. Why am I not traumatized? Which of us is the sick one? Minho, for doing this after beating someone, or me, for enjoying it so bloody much?_

Still on his knees, Minho reached through the zipper and took hold of Jisung's semi-hard erection. He pulled it out, a firm grip on it. His eyes swung up, meeting the younger's, causing him to look away.

"I've never done this before," revealed the older, "but the sight of you all blood-boltered is so hot. I can't resist."

Before Jisung could say anything, Minho was licking the sides of his shaft. As he strangled another moan, his fingers pressed hard into the sides of the bathtub. Of all the things they'd done, oral sex had never been one of them. They hadn't thought they'd be into it. But now, with Minho's delicious tongue moving over every inch of his arousal, Jisung only grew harder. He wanted to argue, ask Minho to stop lest it make him go insane. All he managed to do was whimper, though.

As the painter took Jisung into his mouth, he placed one hand on his pelvis to brace himself. The other remained wrapped around the base, stroking his back in forth with the same rhythm as his sucks. Jisung bit his lower lip and pinched his eyes shut. Though he'd tried to fight it, a few seconds later his hands shot up and grabbed Minho's hair. With force, he shoved him deeper against him, forcing him to take the whole thing into his mouth a few times. The painter made a muffled noise of surprise, a pleasant vibration, but didn't pull away.

"Hum," Jisung panted, desperate. "Make a noise. Try to talk. Something."

Minho obeyed, beginning to hum in the back of his throat. The quiver of it created a rapturous feeling for Jisung, who found himself getting more and more into it.

_"Ahh_ , fuck yes. Just like that, Minho. That feels so good. Fuck."

When the younger opened his eyes, looking down at the man working on his arousal, he saw an interesting sight. Minho wasn't backing down, but there was a certain look on his face: eyes pinched shut, brows furrowed. He looked like he was struggling. On one hand, it was worrying; he didn't want to make Minho do anything he didn't want to. On the other, seeing this new expression on Minho was kind of erotic.

_Why is he making that face? Is he not enjoying this? He'd pull away if that was the case. I've never seen him look like this before. Is it because he's aroused? No, can't be. Is it... Am I... too big for him? Is he having trouble fitting me in his mouth?_

The thought only made Jisung even more aroused. Teetering on the edge now, his breath picked up.

"Minho," he gasped. "Ah, M-Minho, I'm—I'm gonna— _aah.._!"

Minho weaned himself off of Jisung's arousal. Once his mouth was free, he gulped air and looked up at Jisung. "Huh?" he asked, as if he hadn't been able to make out his words.

Unable to stop it, Jisung wrangled a cry as he came. Minho flinched when the warm seed spewed across his face. It wasn't as good an orgasm as last time, but still it was utter bliss. With his eyes closed, he took deep breaths. Then, he opened them again and gazed down at Minho. The sight of him with strands of white across his face was hot, hotter than Jisung could've ever imagined. It was troubling, though, that Minho still didn't look comfortable. The painter reached up, scooping the glob of ejaculate that had landed across his nose onto his fingers. Then, he stared at it.

_If he licks it, I'm gonna scream. That'd be too hot..._

But, instead, Minho's face warped into one of disgust. With a sharp swipe downward, he shook the come off of his hand. Jisung felt his heart sink with worry.

_Oh, shit. I don't think he liked that._

His fears from earlier came back when Minho glared up at him. There were still some white strings on his face, but now Jisung wanted to wipe them away. He dared not move, though.

"I-I'm sorry," the younger guy stammered. "I tried to warn you, but it... It happened too fast."

Minho stared at him for a beat, then stood up. He sat down beside Jisung on the edge of the tub. After a few seconds of silence, he reached up and caressed Jisung's bloodied cheek.

"I'm sorry," repeated the younger without looking back at him.

Without a word, Minho's hand reached over Jisung's right ear, past it to the back of his head. It was a soothing gesture until his fingers dug into his hair, tugging it hard. Fingers tangled and grip firm, he used it to whip him down. Jisung's head plunged under the hot water that was still slowly filling the tub. When the younger tried to struggle, his weakened arms kept slipping into the water. Air bubbles surfaced around his face as he screamed underwater without meaning to. Soon, he was finally pulled back up and allowed to gulp in oxygen.

"Apples," he gasped in a panic. "Apples! App—"

Minho dunked his head into the water again. The artist's attempts to struggle against him grew weaker with each passing second. "How's the water, Jisung?" he asked, twisted amusement in his low voice. "I know you don't like it too hot."

Meanwhile, downstairs, Hyunjin heard the water running through the basement's pipes. He didn't care, though, too busy bawling. His best friend laid unconscious only a few feet beside him, all because he's decided to play a stupid game.

_Seungmin hadn't even wanted to play it_ , he lamented. _So why did he have to get hurt first? Why did he get caught up in this at all? God, it's all my fault!_

"Seungmin," he cried into the room, eyes pinched shut, though he knew no one could hear him. "I'm sorry. I'm _so_ sorry. It should've been me they hurt, not you. It should've been _me..._!"

"Then do something about it."

He snapped his eyes open. For a second, he could've sworn he'd heard Seungmin's voice. But when he glanced at Seungmin and saw him, he realized he was wrong. He was still unconscious.

_No, I didn't hear Seungmin. I heard what I would've expected him to say. He'd tell me to make it up to him, to even the score in his honor._

Hyunjin glanced down near Seungmin's feet and saw it: the cane. Jisung had dropped it.

He glanced at the chains around his wrists. Since the cane was durable enough, then maybe he could use it as leverage to break his restraints. All he had to do was find a way to pick it up.

The most logical option was to reach with his feet. So he stretched himself out along the floor as much as he could and extended his right leg. He was able to catch its curved handle around his heel. Feeling semi-victorious, he scooched himself back into a proper sitting position. Using his foot, he pulled the cane closer so it was under his right thigh. Now came the tricky part: picking it up and getting it into his hands. Since he couldn't reach down, this seemed easier said than done.

It was a bit tricky, but he managed to roll the cane over and move it up his left leg. Then, he started kneeing it up. Once it was crooked, he held it between his skinny thighs (a task of its own) and inched the handle closer to his right hand. He was soon able to grab it.

_Yes!_

This hand hoisted the rest of the cane up, twisting it so he could grab it in his left. Then, he pressed the still-bloody tip against one of the chains and pressed against it with all his might. The cane slipped a few times, and he was starting to lose hope, but then the chain gave way. Finally, his left hand was free! The excitement and adrenaline from the sweet release gave him the strength to break his right hand free. Then he sat there, staring at the cane in his arms.

He could hardly believe that he'd managed to break chains with a cane, but here he was. And now that he was free, he... didn't know what to do. As he stared at the walking stick, blinking at it, he realized he hadn't thought up any sort of plan. In truth, he hadn't expected to get past the stage of freeing himself. He needed to get the jump on Minho, but how could he do that when he didn't know where he was?

That was when he remembered the water that still flowed through the pipes above him. He listened to the sound.

_They must be in the bathroom together... wherever the bathroom is. But the running water should give me enough cover to go up there!_

He stood up and did up his shirt. Then, he went down at Seungmin. It was a bad sight; he tore his eyes from it at first, but then made himself look back. He immediately tried to did the same with his chain. And luckily, it successfully worked.

"We'll make him pay, Seungmin," he told his unconscious friend and wrapped his arm around his nape before he stood up. "We'll get out of here. We will _surely_ get out of here and I'll bring you to the hospital, I promise."

He took the cane and held it with his other hand. Seungmin in one hand and arm, cane in the other, he headed for the basement stairs. They creaked as he made their way up, but he climbed them as quick as he could.

The first floor was spacious and he didn't know his way around, so he decided to let the sound of running water guide him. He tried to look for a phone, so that the police could go here and arrested the psychopath, but didn't see anything. It led them to a closed door. With slow movements, he pushed it open. Inside was the downstairs bathroom. The tub was running, water now spilling over the sides onto the floor. No one was in the room, though. Besides the tub, Hyunjin saw nothing unusual. The streamer whipped around, checking his surroundings. All was quiet. Not a floorboard creaked.

_Where are they?_

He inched his way down the hall. There was no one in the kitchen or living area. When he glanced at the stairs to the second floor, he saw something.

_There are clothes messed up on the stairs._

Putting two and two together, his eyes trailed up the staircase. No one at the top, but that didn't mean they weren't up there somewhere. Before going up, though, he looked to his right, at the front door.

_Two against one, and I'm thinner than both of them. This isn't a good idea. It'd be a lot safer to run. But..._ The image of Minho beating Seungmin haunted him. He shook his head, filled with anger and determination. _No. I can't let them get away with that. I need to avenge Seungmin._ He look at the unconscious guy beside him. _I'll make them pay for you._

With purposeful but cautious footsteps, Hyunjin made his way upstairs. The second floor seemed almost more spacious than the first. It was quiet up there—too quiet. He started to feel nervous, but pushed it back.

_Pretend it's a video game. A speed-run, where dying means a significant time loss. Don't mess up. Don't panic. Focus._

His eyes scanned the area around him. There were a few doors to his left, a balcony to his right. Behind him were some more doors.

_Don't waste time wandering around. Find out what you need to do to progress the game and do it._

He held his breath and stopped thinking, then put all his focus into his hearing. Nothing. Nothing, then, from the first door behind him—

Throwing away stealth, he leapt around the half-wall at the top of the stairs and lunged for the door past it. He grabbed the knob and twisted, then threw the door open.

_A phone on the lamp table. There it is!_

He observed the room before anything else. The room looked like some sort of study, with a laptop on a desk. In the side of the room there's a bed. He immediately went his way there and carefully lay Seungmin's unconscious body. He went to the lamp table to get the phone and dial the police emergency number. He activated the phone's GPS tracker as well for them to easily get tracked.

"Hello?" he started in a not so loud voice. "Please help us, we were kidnapped by a murderer here. My friend was beaten so hard. We need your help. Please please." he stated quickly and tried his best on to cry. 

"We'll try our best to get to you there as fast as we can, can you atleast describe us where can you be located?"

He was about to respond when he heard a step coming inside the room. 

He immediately turned his gaze to the door and there it stood Jisung, wearing only the blazer and pants of his suit. His dark hair was matted and soaking wet. Hyunjin promised to himself that he'd seen the younger's somewhat puffy eyes, seemed like he was just finished crying. When he entered, he then jolted in fear. Hyunjin, despite thinking those thoughts, sneered.

"You," Hyunjin growled. "You're exactly who I wanted to find first."

"Hyunjin," stammered the younger, "wait. Let's talk about this."

The older glanced at his options. He reached for the cane and grip it tighter. It was fitting to deal with Jisung with it, as Minho had dealt with his car during the time he was looking for a near liquor store.

"Hyunjin, please!"

The only answer Hyunjin gave was a battle cry as he dashed forward. Jisung narrowed avoided the cane as it came down, smashing instead into the laptop on the desk. He swung it to the left, narrowing missing him again. Sensing that someone was talking through phone, Jisung bolted inside the room and quickly caught the phone. As soon as he turned around to look for Hyunjin's presence, Hyunjin was grabbing the back of his hair, pulling him back as he screamed and unclutched the phone. A wild backward kick made the older release him. While he seemed intent on running forward, another swipe of the cane changed his path to the right. There wasn't far to go, though; when he reached the doorway to the balcony of the room, then he turned and realized he was cornered. Hyunjin realized this as well, and it made him smirk.

"Nowhere to go, Jisung," he taunted.

The younger shook his head in fear; took a step back, which Hyunjin countered with a step forward. "Please," he begged. "Please don't."

"I don't want to. I don't want to, but I don't have any other choice! Blame your bastard boyfriend; he forced my hand!"

"I'll admit it, okay? He's taken things way too far! I didn't want this to happen!"

"Why are you helping him?" Hyunjin held a hand out. "Side with me, Jisung. I already called the police. We can stop him together!"

"What?!" Jisung panicked, trying to find the right words that needed to say. "I can't do that! I... I love him!"

"It's not love, can't you see that? It's Stockholm syndrome!"

That response made Jisung silent. He didn't seem to have anything to counter with.

"He doesn't love you."

"He does!"

"No, he doesn't! He's only playing with you so he can use you whenever he wants! Don't you hear what Seungmin had told him? He doesn't love you Jisung. You are just a _replacement._ "

"Shut up..." Jisung covered his ears, his face shaking. " _Shut up_!"

"If I can't make you see it, then you don't leave me any other choice."

He lowered his hands then cried out. "You don't have to do this. Doing this makes you no better than him! I know you—I've watched your streams; you're too good a guy for this, Hyunjin!"

Hyunjin let out a bitter chuckle. "Let me tell you something about streaming. It's a lot like showing yourself to strangers. When you want to make a good first impression, you don't want to show them your flaws, do you?" His eyes narrowed, smirk looking darker than before. "Seungmin was the good one, not me. You guys should've hurt me first."

That said, Hyunjin rushed Jisung. Before the younger could react, the cane smashed into his left temple. When he stumbled, Hyunjin hit him again, on the other side of his head, then jabbed him in the stomach.

"This doesn't make me a murderer," he insisted as he kept swinging. "This makes me a hero! This is _self-defense_!"

Back he went, until one of the older guy's relentless strikes caused him to fall back. He landed against the railing of the balcony; its wooden support beams creaked with his weight. Hyunjin raised the cane to deliver a finishing blow.

"You know, it's not self-defense if he's not attacking you."

Minho's voice made Hyunjin freeze. He turned his head, looking back at the psychopath. Minho stood close against the wall, specifically in front were Seungmin was being laid earlier. There was a very dangerous distance between them. Seeing Minho clutching Seungmin's hair made his face pale. But it made worse when he saw his friend's eyes awake, now sitting on the mattress with an uncomfortable position while looking at him in fear.

"H-Hyunjin..." he called out.

"Seungmin!" he was looking at him with concern when Minho suddenly interrupt.

"I never knew you were so vindictive, Hyunjin. You've done a spectacular job of hiding that side of yourself until now."

Hyunjin immediately clutched Jisung's hair, along with the cane on the other hand raising, "Wait your turn."

"If I ask you something, will you answer?"

"What the fuck do you want?"

Minho clutched Seungmin's hair firmer and revealed a _knife_ across Seungmin's neck. "What do you prefer, you'll kill Jisung or I'll kill Seungmin?"

Hyunjin glared past Minho, "Don't kill him."

"If that's your choice, " his dark face wore an expression of genuine surprise, possibly even worry when he turned his gaze down to Jisung. "...you have to let _him_ go."

Hyunjin felt his heart sink. He zoned out momentarily, mind running circles as he reconsider his options. If he let Jisung go there's still a chance that he'll stab Seungmin in front of him. But if he didn't let Jisung go it will make everything worse.

With that thought, he clutched the handle of the metal cane harder. "You're no man," Hyunjin snarled. "I don't know what you are, but whatever it is, it's not a man! Bring your knife down, or else I'll hit him, oh God knows I will!"

Minho looked up at him with a dark, demented grin. "Am I the devil, Hyunjin?"

"I wouldn't doubt it."

Both of them had an intense staring match, none of them made a word, just an exchange of glares. None of them made a move, until someone had decided to do it.

"Let me go." Jisung stated with his unusual determined voice. Hyunjin froze at the sudden. He knew that the younger was talking to him, but his puffy eyes were boring straight right into Minho's, who was now staring back at him intently. He shook his head and was about to protest when Jisung insisted, "I said let me go!"

Something about that shout had made Hyunjin let the younger's hair go. What was about to happen was something he wasn't sure of, but he was _hoping_. There's a hope. 

Jisung slowly stood up while clutching his aching stomach. Despite having pain in his head and stomach, Jisung was able to slowly stood up and walked closer to where Minho was standing. He slowly gathered himself together and was able to come straight right near his partner.

They look into each other, different emotions painting on their faces: Jisung was serious and Minho was curious. 

When they were able to get face to face with each other, Jisung reached to caress Minho's face and smeared his cheek with tenderness. Minho did not depart from his hand though, instead, surprisingly, he stayed there and gave him a questioning look. Jisung could throw up.

Minho's skin has lost his lively porcelain. His eyes have always been look tired and hollow. His hair was messy but in a wonderful and beautiful way.

Jisung shook his head as he squeezed his eyelids shut.

_No, this isn't beauty, this is suffering._

"Jisung," Minho held Jisung's arm tight as he called him out, "What the fuck are you doing?"

His question were ignored when suddenly, Jisung wrapped his one arm around Minho's nape. Despite biting his lip to keep himself from wailing, he ended up crying silently. Minho froze as he heard it. He gave Hyunjin an authoritative look, their eyes met. Hyunjin was watching attentively. Seungmin, on the other hand, was looking at Hyunjin intently, trying his best not to make any move, traumatized to what happened earlier. 

"Not now Hannie." Minho stated abruptly against Jisung's ear. "Don't make any dramas here, you're not helping."

Jisung pulled away, his lips quivering at nervousness as he now look at Minho pleadingly. "You _need_ to stop doing this Minho. This isn't good anymore."

Minho's almost soft gaze turned into glare, his expression changed into a rage one as their dead eyes met. "Don't tell me what to do, Jisung." he warned, "You better know your place before I do something stupid. You _don't_ want to fight me." 

"If I can't let you do it," Jisung immediately caught the knife from the painter then pulled away from him, giving the both of them a large distance. "...then I will going to stab _myself_."

Minho narrowed his dark eyes in furious, Hyunjin was looking at Jisung in shock, Seungmin shut his eyes tight. Jisung, on the other hand, began to sob in sadness. "I'm so sorry Minho, I'm _sorry_."

Minho extended his other hand and crooked his fingers in a beckoning gesture. "See, now you've forced _my_ hand," he said. "I didn't want to hurt you, Jisung. But if it's a fight you want, then I'll come at you, you little shit." Minho lunged forward at Jisung, who suddenly let go of the knife he was holding, and instantly covered himself, but didn't happen when the older guy's right hand wrapped itself around Jisung's throat. He walked closer until the younger's back slammed the nearest wall. And there, he continued choking the younger boy _hard_. 

Jisung cried out loud and thrashed, "N-no! S-stop! I'm sorry Minho, I'm sorry...". Minho looked at his partner who was starting to suffer on his hold. 

Minho's eyes widened at the sight of it. For the first time in a long time, he felt fear. It intensified when he realized it was fear for the wellbeing of another person. He lacked empathy and compassion. They were as foreign to him as remorse. Yet, now, he was terrified that the younger might die because of him. The younger guy who'd been with him for almost two years, who he...

He couldn't lose him. Not now. Not like this.

Minho let go of Jisung's neck then craned his neck sideward to kiss him. Usually in positions like this, they're rough and preparing for sex, but it's _gentle_. So gentle it makes Minho himself feel strange. So, with that realization, he decided to became rough like how it used to be. 

Hyunjin, on the other hand, was currently helping Seungmin to move away from the bed when screeching of sirens had near closer by the second and Jisung had seemed to heard it. He panicked within Minho's hold and kisses and he doesn't want them to take Minho away. 

Minho pulled away, his eyes were wide when he looked at Jisung. The artist didn't do anything but to hug him tight and cry. In an unknown reason, the psychopath stilled. 

They heard the front door being beat down. Jisung held Minho tighter. "Did you do it?" Minho asked, his tone was empty, no emotion onto it.

"No!" Jisung wailed, trying to find the right words to say but ended up cannot. "It's not my fault! I don't want you to go!"

After hearing those, Minho turned his attention to Seungmin and Hyunjin, who was watching them intently. He glared and gave the both of them a devilish smirk. There was no evident of fright on his face.

Then everything happens so quickly. They hear footsteps coming closer to the bedroom door, then the door is swung open to police men holding guns. They saw that Seungmin's face was abused, then witnessed Jisung's crying state. "Slowly let go of the boy or we'll shoot," one of them says calmly. Jisung began to cry harder as he felt Minho's arms release him.

"Minho…" he softly squeaked. One of the men rushed at Minho, threw him onto the floor, and held him down. Jisung screamed and swinged at the officer. He was held back by another one of them. He yells and yells and tries to free himself to get to Minho.

He heard the sound of handcuffs being fixed around wrists before the officer pulled Minho onto his feet. He didn't turn to look at Jisung, but instead glared straight right through the door until he got out of the room. 

Hyunjin came closer to Jisung after and held him with the help of other policemen. Jisung removed himself from their grip and ran but he can't. He met the floor and everything is a blur.

Jisung felt like he can't breathe anymore.

He felt like his breathing have malfunctioned along with the beating of his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi guys ._. sorry for not updating for so long, i've been very very busy with studies.
> 
> so like what I have mentioned, one or two last chapter will be updated and then it's over. i have to finish this since i have to focus in rl :((( (for now).
> 
> again, i wouldn't stop thanking you for reading all of this. i feel so glad and motivated whenever i read all of your wonderful comments. you guys are the best! 
> 
> sending love to all of you,, stay safe always!! 
> 
> –m.


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